


Vitalis III

by spockats



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Being Stranded On An Alien Planet, Bones Is The Disaster Version Of Snow White, CW: Depiction of Illness, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, idiots to lovers, or more accurately:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 72,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29376393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockats/pseuds/spockats
Summary: After months — hell, maybe even a full year — of teasing words and flirty glances and not so casual touches, they slept together. This should solve things, right? Wrong. Because they’d just found Jimsatisfactory, nothing else. That was great, right? That was so going to keep him warm at night while Bones and Spock were cuddling three metres away.Who wouldn’t be happy to be stranded on an alien planet in a psychedelic jungle with the weirdest squirrels and the loudest birds and the two idiots you were irredeemably in love with who kept taking their shirts off to fight the heat?Not Jim. Jim waspeachy.Written for the Star Trek Valentine's Bang 2021
Relationships: Christine Chapel/Nyota Uhura, James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Comments: 67
Kudos: 150
Collections: Star Trek Valentine's Bang 2021





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Many many many thanks to the wonderful beta [Fox](https://dinkryze.tumblr.com), who did an amazing job at editing and catching my mistakes. 
> 
> Equal amounts of gratitude to [Chesky](https://chezzzky.tumblr.com), the indredibly talented artist assigned to my fic! Their illustration will be embedded in Chapter 1 and I can't wait to share it! 
> 
> Last but not least, a huge thank you to the Event's flawless Mod Team, who made this experience fantastic!
> 
> Thank you so much, guys! Working with you was a real pleasure <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is a prologue and literally 99% smut and 1% plot, and thus can be skipped if it's not your cup of tea. Plot starts with Chapter 1 :)

“Checkmate,” Jim said, curving his lips just enough to be polite. He was tired. So tired that even the idea of standing up and crossing the threshold of Spock’s quarters to reach his own seemed like too much. He just wanted to beam to bed. 

His bed, where things were different. Where he could wind up the covers so tight, they felt like arms. Where he could pretend he wasn’t alone. Where he could pretend he was part of this, really part of this, that the casual flirting and the lingering touches didn’t stop in his mind. That Bones called him _darling_ and meant it. That Spock sometimes rested his hands on Jim’s arms with actual affection. That he wasn’t imagining it - the attraction between them. That he was hopelessly in love with them and they loved him back.

Because they looked so good together, sitting so close they must be breathing the same air, brushing their fingers in lingering kisses, leaning into each other. And Jim was so selfish, so incredibly selfish, but he couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t stand looking and not having, he ached too much. He had to leave. The next day, he would be normal again. He would smile and pretend it wasn’t killing him. Pretend that his attempts at moving on were working. Pretend he was fine.

That night, he was too tired. So he rushed to win so he could just… just leave.

He’d come up with this checkmate strategy weeks before; he’d been waiting to use it on Spock at the right time. He had imagined himself caged in, a few moves from checkmate, turning the tables and smirking brilliantly. Well, he wouldn’t now. Spock never forgot a single thing; Jim wouldn’t be able to pull it off again. Was it worth it?

Jim looked up and met Bones’s open, earnest gaze, his eyes half closed, warm and relaxed, his cheek rubbing slightly against Spock’s shoulder. Yes, it was. If Jim stayed there he might do something stupid. Like start crying, possibly start screaming, or kissing them. Definitely a good use of it, even if he wouldn’t get his glory exit.

Spock looked surprised. Well, no shit. 

Bones felt Spock's surprise, of course he did, without even looking. He straightened up and checked the board and looked at Spock with a raised eyebrow, and _fuck_ , the way they picked up things from each other was so heartbreakingly intimate and Jim couldn’t. He couldn’t, not that night. He really, really wanted to leave right then. 

“Come on, don’t be sour, hun,” Bones said, tracing Spock’s wrist with his index, “it’s not your night.”

“Sour?” Spock said, and Jim stood up because now they were looking at each other and their eyes were so earnest, it looked so natural, he couldn’t. That was it. That was the line, crossed and destroyed, Jim had to leave. “I am fascinated. Jim, that was a remarkable strategy.” Jim had made it out of the chair and taken three steps back when Spock turned to him. “Jim?”

“You all right, darling?” Bones asked, looking at him straight in the eye and entwining his fingers with Spock’s, full on making out, and did they think Jim didn’t know what they were doing? Or did they? Was Jim just imagining the way Bones was looking at him or was Bones staring at him hungrily on purpose? No. No, they were together and Jim was their friend and he was going crazy and he should leave right that damn instant before he did something he’d regret.

Spock stood up. Jim looked between them, looked at Bones’s curious gaze and the calculated, slow steps Spock was taking, his eyes alight with such fiery focus, and Jim had to drop his. Alarm bells sounded in his head because this felt like dangerous, dangerous territory, and Jim should really _really_ leave.

“Truly,” Spock started, and his breath was warm against Jim’s skin and they were standing way too close, so close he could feel Spock’s warmth and their clothes were brushing, fabric catching as Spock raised his hand to tilt Jim’s face up to face his. And Jim was paralysed and tired and weak and confused and stupid, so he looked up and met him. “Fascinating,” Spock finished, his lips brushing the words against Jim’s, blanking his whole brain, and- and kissed him. 

Bliss. Spock’s lips were scalding hot and soft and insisting, opening Jim’s as his hands tilted his face up and sideways, exactly how he wanted, and Jim went. Jim would have given him anything if he just promised to never stop, because his kiss tingled like electricity and Jim could feel it slithering in his lips, in his scalp, in the tip of his fingers, lighting him up.

“Huh,” Bones said, and Jim tore himself away and looked at his best friend with horrified eyes because _he’d just kissed his boyfriend in front of him_. Spock’s hands were still tilting his head, pulling as Jim pushed to look over his shoulder to see Bones, apologies and excuses and words coming to his lips even if they’d sound so fake because even now, even under Bones’s eyes, Spock’s hand on him felt so good. So good. And then Spock pulled harder, pulled down, and Jim tried fighting but couldn’t, and followed the new direction until Bones’s whole body came into focus and- “Don’t stop on my account,” he murmured, and _winked_ , and Jim full on shuddered because Bones’s hand fell down his own chest and stomach and he _palmed himself_ , throwing his head back and groaning, rolling it back straight and standing up.

He walked slowly, coming up behind Spock and softly kissing his neck, raising an eyebrow at Jim, and Jim was- Jim was ready to wake up now, because the last time he’d dreamed about having sex with them, turbolift rides had turned very, very uncomfortable. 

Jim didn’t wake up. Bones was holding his gaze like a magnet, his lips tilted in a smirk, and he kissed up Spock’s neck until he came up to Spock’s ear, biting and sucking his lobe, and Spock moaned softly, a breath of a thing, and his head tilted, giving him space, moving right and moving forward until his lips were brushing Jim’s cheek wetly, and Jim couldn’t stop staring and he was probably gaping. 

“I think we broke him, honey,” Bones whispered. “Jim? Don’t break now, darling. The best part’s yet to come.”

He winked. Jim tried to swallow. He was so ready to wake up, before he heard more of Bones’s bedroom voice and had to spend the next weeks flying to his quarters any time he heard him speak.

“Kiss him again, Jim,” Bones invited him, “feel his tongue and think of all the places he could use it on.”

Jim opened his mouth, meaning to say that he had a strong suspicion he was having a stroke, but the only thing that came out was half a _what_ before Spock took matters literally into his own hands and twisted them to pull Jim’s face up, abandoning all mercy and taking full advantage, and _invaded him_. And oh. 

Spock’s tongue was rough, and slightly less wet, and scalding hot, and Jim was going to faint. Because Spock? Spock knew how to use it, and Jim felt like he was fourteen and kissing someone for the first time, because Spock pushed in and licked and twisted and caressed Jim’s tongue and his palate and Jim was shuddering, his hands flying up to clench Spock’s hair and hold on, trying to ground himself against the onslaught of sensations that were short-circuiting his brain.

“How about here?” Bones whispered, right in his ear, and Jim jumped in surprise, shivering, clenching his fingers in Spock’s hair and making him groan. “So sensitive,” Bones chuckled, and his arms circled his waist and travelled up to his neck, and Jim was moved back with one push from Bones’s forearms, his back pressed against Bones’s chest, Bones’s naked chest, his arousal thrusted lazily into him, and Jim whined helplessly.

One of Spock’s hands fell down Jim’s neck, caressed Bones’s, making him sigh, and travelled down until it curved around Jim’s hip, holding strongly, and pulled until they were against him, moving his hips in a perfect match to Bones’s rhythm, giving Jim friction that was everything and nothing at the same time, and biting Jim’s lower lip, growling possessively. Jim could die. He could die right there. If this was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up.

“How about his tongue here?” Bones asked, breathed in Jim’s ear, brushing his neck with a single finger, so lightly Jim wanted to cry, and clenching his arms when Jim startled in a jump again. “Or here?” Bones went on, intent on being Jim’s death, pushing two fingers harshly down Jim’s chest, smirking when Jim cried out and had his moans eaten by Spock. “Fuck, darling, you make the sweetest little noises. How ‘bout here?” Bones’s hand was on Jim’s stomach, and down, down, down to his navel, and Jim was shuddering in anticipation, all of his nerves and blood focused between his legs where Spock was still thrusting his own arousal against him, lazily, slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. 

Bones denied him. _He denied him_. He let his hand caress around it, down Jim’s inner thigh, and chuckled right in his ear when Jim sobbed. He travelled back, ignoring Jim’s cries mushed in Spock’s lips, until he slithered it between them and rested it on Jim’s ass, pressing into Jim’s trousers until the tips of his fingers were brushing between his cheeks, a teasing pressure of cloth and nails where Jim was the most delicate and Jim cried out, shook in moans and whimpers, and his whole body shuddered just at the _possibility_ of Spock’s tongue there, mocked by Bones’s tease.

And then Bones backed up, and Jim was left with coldness behind and whined, moving back to find the same mind blowing friction Spock was giving his front. Bones tutted at him and spanked him lightly, and Jim cried out in surprise, stilling, his mind already making up all of the scenarios his ass and Bones’s smacks could create, and whined again, desperate and overwhelmed.

“Shh, settle, darling, one more place to go,” Bones whispered, coming close again as his hand circled him and opened the fly of his pants, ignored his front again and circled back and-and slithered inside Jim’s boxers, skin against skin, going back to grabbing a cheek possessively, his fingers back in his cleft, and Jim cried in Spock’s mouth and thrust back on instinct, earning himself a pleased hum.

“The one you’ll like best, I think,” Bones spoke, hushed and low, and his breath had condensed on Jim’s ear in his absence and the contrast of the warm air and the cold of the droplets was going to drive him mad, “is here.” Bones’s fingers dug in, swiped down, and pressed on Jim’s entrance one by one, and Jim had tears falling out of his eyes, crying in overstimulation, and he panted in Spock’s mouth, feeling Bones’s index pressing in and up against the area behind his sack, rotating as if looking for something and- and Jim whited out and _screamed_. He screamed, letting his head fall back on Bones’s shoulder as his whole body tensed against the waves of pleasure that filled his every nerve, from his scalp to his chest to his nipples to his fingers to his entrance to the tip of his cock.

When he came back to reality, he couldn’t stand. He was leaning against Bones’s chest, held on by Spock’s arm, panting shuddering breaths broken by small, chest-wrecking sobs, and he only realised that they had just brought him to a mind shattering orgasm only with clothed thrusting and prostate stimulation when he felt wetness inside his boxers. He was so screwed. So screwed.

Spock and Bones weren’t moving, just holding on, and when the ringing in Jim’s ear stopped, he heard the sweet words they were speaking into his skin, in his ear and against his cheeks, and their soft hushing when he whined softly. 

“Back with us, darling?” Bones asked, and Jim nodded, not sure if he could speak. “You were so beautiful, Jim,” he added, and Jim closed his eyes and shivered, trying to print this in his mind, the gentleness and the warmth, this simple feeling that felt so akin to love; Jim could cry.

“Magnificent,” Spock said, and his lips pressed against Jim’s again, soft and fleeting. “What would you say this was, Leonard? One of two?”

“Jim is young,” Bones answered, “he can do three.” The finger that had brought him to completion was still there, still slightly pressing, just enough to be felt, but it dug in again with Bones’s words and Jim suddenly realised they were discussing how many orgasms he was meant to have.

“I-“ Jim started, though he didn’t really know what he was going to say and was grateful when Bones shushed him.

“Don’t you worry, darling. You’re tired. Let us take care of you.” Bones’s other hand went up his chest to his neck, and softly held Jim’s jaw and pulled it up and right, until their lips met, and this was Jim’s first kiss with Bones and he would have wanted it to be so much more, but he couldn’t seem to find enough strength to make himself coordinate a good response, so he just held on, let Bones take him as he wished. He didn’t seem to mind.

“I believe,” Spock said, when Bones left Jim’s mouth with one last peck, “that you were promised my oral services in various places, Jim. As I find myself particularly eager, I suggest you collaborate with your undressing to hasten the process. Leonard can attest to my tendency to rip items of clothing when my patience runs thin.”

As Jim raised his arms and allowed Bones to take off his shirt, he knew with a sudden, stabbing certainty, that this would ruin him if they weren’t serious. That if they woke up the next day and the words they’d spoken into his skin had just been the heat of the moment, Jim wouldn’t survive it unscathed. That he had to ask, before he dug himself into a hole he couldn’t climb out. 

But Spock’s teeth biting his collarbone, his tongue soothing the pain soon after, were something he’d never thought he could experience. Bones’s lips as he took Jim’s mouth again, he’d always thought he could only have in his dreams. 

Jim had this now and this was everything. The memories were already in him, the marks were already on his skin. He had this and he might not have it again. 

If it destroyed him, if they destroyed him… Jim would at least have it all. Just once.

So he kissed back, bit Bones’s lip softly and melted in the man’s groan, and when Spock pulled at his foot to slide off his boot, Jim lifted his leg and prayed to the stars that nobody take this from him.

Jim was naked before they were. Spock’s rooms were warm, they were always warm, but he shivered, caught in the moment, in the reality settling in as air brushing every surface of him, from the sweat of his forehead to the mess they’d brought him to between his legs, and he’d never been shy before, had never felt the need to hide before, but he did now, afraid that maybe this, seeing him, really him, might bring them to stop. Might bring the dream to an end because they were together and he was-

“You are a work of art, Jim,” Spock said, whispered against his mouth, and his naked arms circled Jim’s back and brought him in against his chest, where thick, black hair tickled Jim’s body in the most intimate caress. “Do not be shy with us. Never be shy with us.”

Bones was taking his clothes off, Jim could hear him, and he wanted to see, but Spock took his lips again, his mouth, his whole focus as he started their dance again, twisting and pushing just right, just there, and slowly backing Jim towards the darkest part of his rooms, where he’d almost never been. 

He didn’t realise Bones hadn’t followed them until Spock pushed him, and Jim fel backwards with a sharp intake of breath, falling on soft linens that smelled like them, like everything he’d always wanted, everything he’d dreamed about.

“Wher-“ Jim tried, but Spock was on him, pressing him down, suddenly completely naked and _oh_ , thrusting again, skin against skin, Jim’s release making it slick and swift and perfect, so perfect, and Jim moaned into his mouth and bucked up. Spock’s hands flew down to Jim’s thigh, caressing until it grabbed Jim’s knee and pulled swiftly and fuck, Jim thought, frenzied, overwhelmed as he was being played with as easily as Spock played his lute, how was he that strong, that precise, pulling Jim down the bed and up until their hips were perfectly alined, Spock fitting snugly between Jim’s thighs and thrusting just right, so right, so good. 

“Where did he start?” Spock asked, separating their mouths, and Jim whined softly, leaning up to have those lips on him again, that tongue, scraping and caressing, making him see stars. Spock denied him, staring him down, waiting for Jim to collect his bearings, to make his brain work right again and understand what Spock was asking him. 

“N-neck,” Jim whispered, lost in his eyes, in the depths of brown and bronze that looked black in the semi darkness, gleaming red and golden from the light that came from the living room, bathing them softly, caressing their curves.

“Show me,” Spock asked, demanded, his words tickling Jim’s lips and making him close his eyes again. Bones wasn’t there with them, Jim could hear him move around beyond the partition, but Jim remembered, he remembered it perfectly, the first warm whisper of his voice in his ear, making him shiver and jump, and the finger on his neck. He raised his hand from Spock’s back, brought it up slowly, opened his eyes to see Spock staring him down, hard, predatory, studying him, making him feel so small but so precious, so cherished, so bold. 

When Jim grabbed Spock’s hand he was careful. This was… this was a big deal and Spock was looking at him like _that_ but he might not want this, not with Jim. So he went slow, shyly taking Spock’s index between his fingers and rubbing it slightly, softly, clenching it in surprise when Spock groaned brokenly and his thrusting went out of rhythm, pressing down harshly and making Jim moan, his head thrown back and his member filling again just at the sight of Spock’s eyes catching fire, staring him down like he wanted to eat him, to possess him and destroy him, and boy, Jim liked that. He liked that way too much. He was up for that, for Spock taking what he wanted, taking harshly and making Jim squirm and cry, taking and taking and taking until he had everything and Jim was nothing, nothing but his, nothing but theirs.

Their gazes didn’t leave each other when Jim moved Spock’s finger up to his own jaw, and Jim, Jim had never felt so wanted, never felt so safe, he’d never felt like he was giving all of his soul just with his eyes, just by looks, never met anyone who had ever looked at him like this. 

He brought Spock’s finger down slowly, making the caress as teasing as Bones’s as been, everything and nothing, giving himself goosebumps, making himself shake and jump, wanting it perfect, as perfect as he could for Spock’s eyes, for Spock’s touch, basking in the way Spock’s breath hitched and his eyes burned, eating up everything that Jim was, taking everything away, everything that wasn’t this, them, together.

When they reached Jim’s clavicle, Jim brought their hands up again, to his face, staring Spock down, and pulling, pulling under Spock’s gaze as he tilted his head curiously, smiling because he couldn’t help himself, he’d dreamed of this, he’d fantasised about this, days and nights. When Jim’s lips first touched his soft pad, Spock’s breaths stopped. Jim winked. And pulled the whole finger in his mouth. He sucked, immediately curling his tongue around it and-

Spock growled. He growled, deep and loud and dangerous, his whole chest shaking with it. 

And he sprang. 

Before Jim could compute, he was grasped and raised and turned, falling on his chest with an oomph, two of Spock’s fingers now in his mouth and his own arms stretched up above him, clasped at the wrists in Spock’s iron grip. Jim groaned, thrusted back and was pounded heavily into the mattress, once, twice, bliss filling him at the friction on both sides. 

“I was wondering what you’d done to make him growl like that.” Bones’s voice was low, hushed and rough, and below his stretched arm Jim saw him, naked and leaning against the partition, lazily stroking himself and watching them with eyes that gleamed. “Last time I got a growl like that, I was sucking both his fingers and his dick.” 

Bones’s words were enough to make them both groan, enough to make Spock shiver and pound into Jim again, then dive down and take his neck in his teeth, clenching hard, making Jim’s vision whiten as pleasure and pain blurred together. 

“Jim,” Bones asked, “you’ve used this before, right, darling?” Jim opened eyes he hadn’t realised he’d scrunched close, and watched through a film of tears as an object was put into his line of vision. It fit into Bones’s palm, barely longer than a finger, slim like one, all smooth, white surface and small pores filled with blue light. A sonic cleaner. Medical, probably, since any he’d ever owned had been either pink, or red or any other colour associated with sex, sometimes with ridges, sometimes with bumps to make it slightly more kinky. 

He nodded. 

“Spock, honey, I need you to get off him if we’re still on for having him in the middle.”

Spock’s teeth left Jim’s neck just enough to mutter, “We are.” Then, he dived back in, lower, biting and making Jim squirm, thrusting down against him at the same time, making Jim’s wet member rub deliciously against the sheets, letting him feel the brush of his chest hair and the scalding temperature of his skin. Jim sucked his finger harder in thanks and Spock growled again, and bit harder, thrusting faster.

“Come on, honey,” Bones said, and he was closer now, maybe touching Spock but Jim couldn’t see, but whatever he did, Spock stilled and gently pulled his fingers out of Jim’s mouth. Jim sucked all the way, earning himself another warning growl. He smirked hazily and kept thrusting against the sheet in his own rhythm, loving the hitch in Spock’s breath, the roughness of Bones’s voice as he added, “just a few seconds.”

Spock rolled off Jim and went to lay on his left, his chest pressed to Jim’s side and Jim’s arms still in his firm grip against the mattress, his teeth relenting but his mouth staying, letting his tongue come out and lick away the pain with long, rough strokes. Jim shivered, and when Bones’ hands settled on the inside of his thighs he started slightly and stilled.

“Just me, darling,” Bones shushed him, “I’ll be done in a sec.”

“No stretcher,” Spock said firmly, his lips brushing Jim’s neck wetly. 

“‘kay.”

“No lubricant.”

“Just cleaner, I got it, honey. If Jim’s okay with this. Jim, darling?”

Jim, under Spock’s unrelenting kisses, licks and bites, wanting nothing more than to go back thrusting against the bed, preferably with Spock back on top of him, managed a humph in response.

“You okay with us opening you up by hand?”

They wanted- oh. _Oh_. He was… he was more than okay. The stretcher function was useful, efficient and painless, but to him, it had always felt weird. He was used to it, because everybody used it just to be safe, and it didn’t make sense to ask for anything else when an object could do it faster, but… the times, the very few times people had used their fingers on him to open him up, those were the memories he liked best. And they wanted… with him. 

He nodded. 

“Great,” Bones said, and a second later, his lips landed on the small of Jim’s back in a pecking kiss, his hand gently spreading Jim’s cheeks. “Relax a minute, darling. Tell me if it hurts.”

It didn’t, of course. Bones was too good a doctor to let something hurt when it could be painless. The cleaner slid inside him swiftly, touching nothing that would make Jim uncomfortable as it worked, unrelenting but familiar, and immediately warmed when Bones activated the cleaning process. 

“Spock?” Bones asked, “Top or bottom, honey?”

“Top,” Spock said, and immediately slithered back onto Jim when Bones’s hands left Jim’s body, his thrusts softer, more careful, but his mouth as harsh as before, making Jim squirm and clench around the cleaner, feeling it so close to that point that made him see starts, but not angled enough. Bones definitely knew what he was doing, as frustrating as that was.

Jim let his eyes close again, sighing under Spock’s licks and bites until he felt a short huff of breath above him. When he decided to look, he was met with Bones’ body, lean and perfect under the soft reflected lights, one leg up on the bedside table as he finished inserting another cleaner inside of him. Jim’s mouth was dry. He didn’t remember making a sound, but he must have, because Bones’s eyes flew down to his and he winked. 

“Aw, darling,” he murmured, activating the device and putting his leg down, “if you wanted a show, you should have asked. Next time.” He winked again, and Jim, even after this, even naked under their eyes and with the memory of their hands all over their body, blushed. “Sweet,” Bones said, looking thoroughly satisfied, making him blush harder. 

Spock had moved down. He was biting, sucking and licking all over Jim’s shoulder, the pain and burn a constant source of shivers and sighs, and intense, so intense that Jim was almost sure he would bruise, almost sure he’d bruise and carry the marks for a week at least, almost sure he’d get to stand in the shower and brush over them and remember this. Remember them, the soft light, the soft words, the passing pain and the hazy blanket of pleasure that was taking him away from reality.

“How about we move on, honey?” Bones asked, grunting slightly with discomfort for what Jim realised was probably the cleaner stretching him. Oh. “Or move over, I’d like a taste too.”

Spock bit Jim’s shoulder one last time, harder than all of the other times combined, making Jim cry out, and thrusted once more before moving off, to Jim’s left again. Jim breathed, tried to work through the fading pound of returning blood to his shoulder, the friction he’d had on his front and the way Spock’s last thrust had angled the cleaner just a breath away from _just right_ , tried to work through the way Spock and Leonard’s combined scents on the blanket made him quake just slightly, made him want to hide and made him want to cry, to stay there forever like this, to fall asleep right there and never leave.

Then Spock grabbed his waist and pulled him on his side, making him groan slightly when the cleaner moved too, and moved Jim’s arms down to his sides and let them free. Bones was on his front immediately, laying on his side and facing Jim, taking his mouth in a bruising kiss, one of his hands flying to Jim’s head to angle it as he wished. 

Jim let him, still reeling from the move, and didn’t notice Spock moving away, not immediately, not when he had his arms free and he could use them to draw Bones closer, to caress his back and his strong arms and pull them together until they were one. 

Bones seemed to agree. His free hand landed on Jim’s shoulder and travelled down, heavy and possessive, to the curve of Jim’s ass, going up and down, up and down his hip, until Jim got so frustrated he thrusted forward. Bones groaned with him, and they drank each other noises’ down, and bit his lip until he heard Jim whine.

“In a rush, darling?”

“Yes,” Jim panted, “ _please_.”

Bones didn’t make him beg further. His hand slipped down, down to the place he’d teased before, to the place he’d denied him before, and closed around them both, stroking down. 

Jim tore himself away from Bones’s mouth to breathe, to hiss, to pant against the onslaught of sensations that spread all over his body, for the first real touch there, still over-sensitive and wet from his release but wanting more, so much more, wanting it to never end because it hurt so, so good. 

Bones didn’t relent. The hand on Jim’s cheek grabbed his jaw and pulled him down again, down and back to Bones’s mouth where his lower lip was bitten again, making Jim thrust into Bones’s hold and clench his eyes against the bliss. 

And then- and then Spock was back, his hands scorching hot as they grabbed Jim’s right leg and pulled it forward until it rested over Bones’s hip, bringing them closer, making it easier to thrust in sync into Bones’s hand, and- that was Spock’s breath, right over Jim’s cheek where it met his thigh, and Bones had said Spock would but Jim hadn’t believed that he’d ever-

Spock bit him there, hard, unrelenting, and Jim started, jerked and screamed into Bones’s mouth, clenching his hands into Bones’s hair to steady himself. Spock released him and started licking, kissing and sucking gently, and Jim was shivering, this was too much, way too much and he wasn’t going to last. 

Spock and Bones realised it when he did. 

Spock’s hands flew on Jim’s hips in a bruising hold, firm and unmovable as the one he’d subjected Jim’s wrists to, and Jim couldn’t move, couldn’t thrust anymore, couldn’t move forward to follow Bones’s hand when the man left his hold of them to grab Jim’s raised leg and bring it higher on himself. 

“Relax, darling,” Bones murmured against Jim’s lips, “relax. Come down and we start again.”

Jim was shaking, shivering in overstimulation and utter need, wanting their hands all over him and nowhere near him at the same time, wanting to come again but not wanting to disappoint them. 

He was crying, he realised. He was crying and Bones was drying his tears with his thumb, stroking gently over Jim’s cheekbones and kissing away the ones he missed, shushing him with whispers all over the heated skin of his face. Behind him, Spock was breathing against Jim’s lower back, giving him goosebumps and shivers, waiting patiently for him to come down. 

When Jim had gathered his wits enough to say he was ready to continue, the sonic cleaner released a brief, small vibration inside of him, signalling it was done. 

“Cleaner,” Jim said into Bones’s skin, “out.”

“Spock, honey, can you?”

“Of course.” Jim tried not to tense, but the sonic waves always left him a little too sensitive, and he flinched slightly when Spock pulled out. Still, Spock was quick, it clearly wasn’t the first time he touched one, and the device was out before Jim could finish his sigh of discomfort. He heard it land somewhere on the ground behind him. 

They lay like this, each calming their breaths, Jim’s shivers dying down. He was hard, oversensitive, so turned on it was painful, and he really didn’t know how they intended to have him come twice more in the same night, he didn’t think he could. Not with them. Not when sex felt like this, like exposing his heart, not when every touch, every kiss, felt so powerful, so heartbreakingly intense. He could have fallen asleep like this, frustrated and hurting, but safe in their arms, in their caresses, warmed by their breaths. But he didn’t. He had this night, and this night only.

“Are you ready to continue, Jim?”

Jim was and wasn’t. But he didn’t think he could get any more relaxed than that, so he nodded. 

“He is,” Bones confirmed. 

“Very well,” Spock said, Jim could have sworn, almost _excited_.

His hands spread Jim’s cheeks. 

Wait. Bones had said he would but. But he hadn’t been serious, right?

Spock’s breath fell hot and heavy, right over Jim’s entrance.

This couldn’t be happening. It was a tease, right? Spock might want to do this to Bones but he wouldn’t-

Jim screamed. He screamed, and Bones let him, let it resonate in the room, loud and surprised, the only sign of what had happened because Spock’s hold on his hips was iron strong and Jim- Jim couldn’t do anything but sob as Spock licked him _there_ , right over his entrance, a dance of roughness and wetness, nothing like Jim had ever felt, too much and not enough and-

Spock licked him again and Jim was crying, Bones was kissing him around his moans and his whimpers and his groans but Jim was still crying, the swipes of Spock’s tongue were scalding and rough and intense and just- just- everything. Too much. Not enough. Nothing he’d ever felt and he would die there, he could feel it with certainty, this would break him. 

And then- then Spock pressed his tongue in, Jim’s entrance slacked slightly from the cleaner, and _moaned_ inside of him and Jim screamed so loud Bones had to kiss it to silence, shaking all over, trembling at each swipe of Spock’s tongue inside of him, licking his walls, his oversensitive, pulsing walls and never relenting, not once, groaning and moaning into him, the vibrations of his voice travelling all over Jim’s body, to his toes and the tips of his hair, and Jim- Jim couldn’t. Jim needed to come, and this was too much and not enough and-

“Please,” he begged against Bones’s mouth, “ _please_.”

“Oh, darling,” Bones murmured, “I’d love to get my mouth around you, but Spock’s wanted this for a while. Bringing you off with just his mouth and tongue on that lovely ass of yours.”

Spock groaned in agreement and licked further inside, and Jim- Jim choked on his breath and he didn’t think he had any voice left to scream. He wanted to thrust forward, he could feel the air, cold and cruel, around his cock and knew that even a slither of cloth could do it, anything could push him over the edge, especially Bones’s body, warming the space around him with its heat, tantalising and completely out of reach while Spock still held him tight.

“Think you could come like this, darling?” Bones asked, his voice hushed, his words wet and slurred. Jim sobbed harder. “I think you can. You’re so close already. His tongue and my voice, enough to drive you crazy. I told you you’d like his tongue there best, didn’t I?”

Jim was going mad. All of his muscles were contracted and locked, and yet he was shaking, shivering, trembling against the waves of pleasure that travelled from Spock’s tongue all over his body, lighting up all his nerves but not just enough, not yet, maybe not ever and he was- it was too much. Too much. Too good, too intense, too little, too-

“How does it feel? How is that roughness against you, mh? I bet you’re pretty sensitive there after the cleaner. I saw how you flinched. How does Spock feel, rasping inside there?”

Jim couldn’t talk. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. This was too much. He felt it so deep inside, so much, so strong, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget it. He’d feel the scorching warmth of Spock’s tongue inside of him forever. He was printing it inside Jim, he must be, because Jim was shaking and he’d never felt like this, never felt so owned, so desperate, so overwhelmed, so frenzied and-

Spock’s tongue tickled Jim’s sweet spot, the spot that made his eyes cross and his vision whiten, and Jim cried out in shock, violently jerked in Spock’s hold and gained nothing, nothing but Spock pressing harder and making him quake in pleasure and humming until the vibrations reached deep inside of him and Jim- Jim came undone. 

Bliss surrounded him, and he was warm, so warm, pure pleasure travelling through his body like a current, blazing him and erasing him, shattering him into pieces. 

He blacked out. Nothing existed but them, the hands on his skin, the warmth all around him, the heat of living flesh and the pleasure whitening his mind. This was how he wanted to go. Here, with Spock’s scent mixing with Bones, warm and shattered on their bed, in their arms, thoroughly theirs. 

When he came to, he was lying on something that was moving. Something alive, breathing. Bones’s chest, his heart beating soundly under Jim’s hand.

“You all right, darling?”

Jim’s breaths were shaking. His whole body felt too heavy to move, his toes, his fingers, his eyelids, everything. 

“He’s awake? You’re sure, hon?”

“He is awake and aware, though significantly fatigued.”

“Don’t you worry, darling,” Bones whispered right in Jim’s ear, and Jim’s body somehow found the energy to shiver, “you have plenty of time to catch up.”

Catch up? Jim had come twice, barely touched, and they were still waiting for their first round. _Jim is young, he can do three_. Jim felt like even the first one had taken all life out of him on its own. He hadn’t believed he could go two times, he wouldn’t be able to pull three. 

But he would let them do anything. Anything, truly, if it meant staying in their arms, having them closer, having them gift him something so precious as themselves.

Bones’s hands caressed his back. Jim sighed. He would give them anything. This was his night. It may be his only chance. He wasn’t falling asleep now. 

A slim, wet finger pressed against his entrance. Spock, he’d guess. With lube. Jim keened slightly but didn’t protest when it entered him; Spock was gentle. He was more than gentle, actually. He was careful. He never pressed against Jim’s prostate, and worked on opening him up methodically, soft on Jim’s overstimulated walls. 

“You’re so amazing, darling,” Bones whispered, “so amazing, so beautiful. We can’t believe you’re giving yourself to us.”

Jim wasn’t. They were, they were amazing and beautiful and all those things, and Jim was the lucky one. But he was too tired to protest. So he let them sweet talk him further into relaxation, he let them whisper sweet nothings into his skin all over again. He let himself believe them, because… because he was here. And they hadn’t thrown him out. He was here and he could have this and why would they lie? Why else would they care for him so?

So he let them. 

Jim lost count of Spock’s fingers inside of him. Spock never made it hurt, never stretched enough to make Jim feel like moving away, and it felt good. Relaxed. Slow. Intimate. Loving.

Jim synched his breaths with Bones’s, and when Bones started thrusting slightly against him, Jim thrusted back, moving between Bones’s hardness and Spock’s fingers in a teasing dance that felt good, so good, so slow and… Jim was hardening again. He didn’t even know how, but he was, he could feel it, and he started clenching around Spock’s fingers to draw more pleasure out, to make it better both for him and for Spock.

Spock’s breaths stuttered every time he did, and as in retaliation, he passed over Jim’s prostate every time, making him whine softly into Bones’s neck, this new dance slow and unhurried, but somehow already overwhelming, already making him hot and desperate, far more than the two times before. 

When Spock took his fingers out, Jim and Bones’s thrusts had been starting to turn into the thorough, intense shoves they’d kept up before Spock’s tongue had started on Jim’s entrance, before it had all become hazy and unfocused, too much and not enough. 

“Ready?” Bones asked.

“He is ready.”

“Get him up slightly,” Bones asked, and Spock did, his hands on Jim’s hips to raise him as Bones moved his hand between his own legs and grunted. Jim kept his face in Bones’s neck. Anything that happened would be fine. He didn’t think he had it in him to come, or to move more than this, but this was enough. This was great. Slow, intimate, loving. They could have anything they wished; he would give it to them. 

Something fell to the ground on his right. Jim ignored it. Maybe they wanted to take him both at the same time? He’d never done it, but he was fine with that. He knew they’d be careful. And Jim would enjoy it. He’d enjoy anything with them if he could stay sheltered in their embrace.

And then Bones’s legs went around Jim’s waist. 

“Ready, Jim?”

Jim didn’t know what he was ready for, but he was. He loved them. Hell, he loved them. He trusted them with everything, every piece of himself. He nodded into Bones’s neck. 

“Can you sit up slightly, darling? I really wanna to see your face.”

Jim could. His head was heavy, but lighter than before, and he could. He rose on shaking arms and met Bones’s gaze. Bones winked again, Jim blushed once more, just for him, earning himself another sweet smile. One of Spock’s hands left his hip while the other circled him to keep him up. Jim smiled into his hold, and sighed. 

And then- Spock’s hand was on Jim’s cock, stroking it once, twice, covering it in lubricant and Jim was lowered, right between Bones’s legs, and he- and Spock- and Spock pushed until Jim was slipping inside Bones, crying out in surprise, his arms barely holding him up as Bones’s walls sucked him in, warm and tight, and Jim- Jim was lost. He fell, shaking and overwhelmed on Bones’s chest, feeling each of the man’s groans and moans of pleasure as he worked with Spock until Jim was completely inside, completely surrounded, Bones’s thighs strong around Jim’s hips and his hands solid and soothing over Jim’s back.

This was- this was perfect. Bones was _perfect_ , tight and warm and fluttering around him, sucking the life out of him and Jim was shaking and trembling and doing everything to keep himself from coming right there and then when-

A pressure at his entrance. Spock. That was _Spock_. Entering him slowly, his flesh scorching hot, hotter than his tongue had been, slicked with lube and still feeling too big, too unrelenting, like it wouldn’t fit, like it couldn’t fit, waking up Jim’s every nerve until he was completely inside and Spock’s chest was against Jim’s back, his hair tickling him, and Jim was- this was what heaven felt like. Sex had never felt like this, never in his life had he felt so completely, thoroughly possessed and open, delicate and fragile, loved and cherished. 

He was shaking, he was crying, he was moaning and he could barely hear himself over the buzzing of his ears, the pleasure overwhelming his every system. 

And then Spock _moved_. 

He was strong, slow, and thorough. He pulled out and pulled Jim’s hips back until Jim thought nothing was left inside him and nothing of him was left inside Bones, and then Spock slammed back in, the force of his thrust enough to send Jim right back into Bones’s body, making them both scream. And then he did it again. And again. And again.

Spock was a force of nature, precise, unrelenting, strong, angling his hips perfectly, pressing against Jim’s sweet spot every time, making his eyes cross and his fingers clench around Bones’s, and he angled Jim’s hips too, making him hit Bones’s prostate and keeping Bones’s member between their stomachs, stimulated and stroked at every go. He had them screaming, groaning and moaning, clenching their fingers together and crying a litany of their names, of his name, of more, of harder, of deeper, of stronger, and he just went. 

He moved faster, harsher, he bit Jim’s neck and kissed Bones’s mouth when Jim was too gone and lost it, when Jim was too overwhelmed and could do nothing but cry into Bones’s shoulder. 

Jim felt himself nearing his edge and he had the lucidity to move his hand and take Bones’s cock, stroking it and thumbing the tip, putting everything he knew into it until Bones was cursing him and begging him right into his ear, wetly and desperately, worked until Bones shouted and his back arched and his muscles spasmed deliciously around Jim as he finally, beautifully came. 

Jim followed right over, his vision blanking, clenching hard around Spock and feeling him choke on his breaths, and Spock pounded him once, twice, thrice until he was tightening his hold on Jim’s hips with bruising force and he shuddered into his orgasm, panting against Jim’s ear, his chest shaking against Jim’s back, all grunts and groans and forceful exhales, until he collapsed too. 

He lost count of the minutes they lay there, catching their breaths, caressing fingers against fingers and leaving soft kisses on overheated skin. 

Spock was the first to move, pulling out of Jim and drawing a hiss of discomfort out of him, finding the energy to stand up and walk out of the bedroom. 

“He’s gonna get something to clean us,” Bones muttered in Jim’s hair, caressing the tension out his back. “Settle down, darling, it’s okay.”

Jim did. 

He didn’t think he could move, anyway. His whole body was tingling with the aftershocks, burning where they’d kissed and bit him, where Spock’s hands had no doubt left marks. 

Spock was back quickly, smelling of spices. He spread Jim’s legs gently, passing the softest warm, wet rag over Jim’s skin methodically, until he was satisfied he was clean. 

“Come, ashayam,” he murmured, and slowly, carefully pulled Jim off Bones, laying him on his back next to him. He cleaned Jim’s front, shushing Jim’s whimper of overstimulation with a kiss, and then let Jim watch as he cleaned Bones, his stomach and all over between his legs. 

When Spock walked away, Bones pulled Jim’s body onto his side and against him, brought Jim’s head to lay on his shoulder and Jim’s arm around his waist. Jim went. He couldn’t move, his eyes had dropped closed and he didn’t think he could open them again. He was comfy. Bones was warm, and even if Spock settled to sleep far away, he was sure that he’d pull the blankets up to cover Jim’s back first and he’d be warm all over. 

He drifted away, lulled by Bones’s deep breaths and the soft noises of Spock in the bathroom. He was there. In their bed, with their scents on his body, their marks on his skin, their words in his ears. 

They hadn’t had sex. 

They’d made love. And Jim- Jim had never experienced anything like it. He’d never felt so much. He’d never felt so safe, so cherished, so… loved. 

And he was sleeping there. With them. In their bed, with caresses and soft, warm rags and sweet words of comfort. Maybe… maybe he could hope. Maybe this was real. Maybe this was his future, maybe he’d get to come back to this every night. Warmth, safety, gentleness, comfort. Love. Maybe he could have this. Maybe he could let himself hope, really hope. 

He couldn’t wait to wake up next to them. He couldn’t wait to wake up next to them for the rest of his life, if they’d let him. This was… everything he wanted. Everything he’d dreamed of. And he had it right there, falling asleep with them, their love imprinted onto him.

He could hope. He could tell them he loved them, maybe. Not right then, though. He was too tired. In the morning, when they’d be waking up together.

He started slightly when the mattress dipped behind him, but Spock’s hand on his shoulder settled him. 

The room was darker. The air filters were cleaning out the smell of sex, leaving only their scents, and the spicy aroma of the oil in Spock’s soft rag. 

Spock settled behind Jim, his arm over him, joining him in embracing Leonard’s waist. He settled the covers over them all, but Jim would have been fine without; Spock was scalding hot behind him, Bones was perfectly warm at his front. 

“Goodnight, honey, darling,” Bones murmured.

“Goodnight _k’diwa_ , _ashaya_.”

“G’nigh,” Jim managed, and let their soft caresses lull him to sleep.

⚭

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first time writing NSFW, hope I didn't disappoint!
> 
> I'll post a new chapter every day, so stay tuned for more and hit me up on tumblr if you wanna chat, I'm spockats there as well :)


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New day, new chapter!
> 
> Many thanks to the lovely people who already left kudos!

This is the wonderful illustration done by [Chesky](https://chezzzky.tumblr.com) for this fic!You can check it out on [Tumblr](https://chezzzky.tumblr.com/post/642939451743600640/vitalis-iii-spockats-star-trek-alternate), [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/p/CLNAM4zl0uw/?igshid=181nl9kiqne5a), and [VK](https://vk.com/wall-189644294_72), too!

Admire this wonderful beauty while you read a preview of what happens in this chapter!

⚭

Jim was woken up by the cold. He came to laying prone, his feet not even on the bed, his whole body naked and laying over the blankets, shivering. He blinked back sleep and slowly sat up, confused as to why- This was his room. His bed. And Jim was alone.

Moving had woken up all of the pains in his body, and he looked down at himself, seeing the imprints of hands and the small half moons of teeth, his skin still slightly damp with something that smelt vaguely like cinnamon.

“Computer,” he rasped, passing a hand over his face and slowly moving to peel the covers back, “what time is it?”

“ _0527._ ”

He remembered the game, and Spock kissing him and thrusting against him in delicious friction, Bones behind him, lighting him up with his touch, making sparks fly behind his eyelids without even taking Jim’s clothes off.

He remembered being undressed, being pulled slowly to bed with kisses and caresses, and lying on his side, Bones’s hand stroking them both and Spock kissing him _there_ , licking him open, stroking his legs gently when he cried in overstimulation.

He remembered being taken, remembered the feeling of Spock inside him, remembered entering Bones and seeing stars, losing himself in the pleasure, feeling so protected and cherished between them, feeling so loved.

He remembered half laying on Bones’s chest, barely awake as Spock passed a damp, warm rag over them and Bones spoke sweet nothings into his hair, waiting for Spock to finish cleaning them, then Spock settling on Jim’s other side, Spock’s chest warm against Jim’s back, perfect. He remembered both of them wishing him good night.

And then… nothing. And then, cold.

“Locate Commander Spock and Doctor McCoy,” Jim asked, though he knew the answer, and having it confirmed would bring nothing good. But he had to know.

“ _Commander Spock’s quarters, sleeping room_.”

They’d brought him back there. They hadn’t even- they hadn’t even woken him up or put him properly on the bed, he’d woken up with his shins and feet dangling in the air. They had… they’d spent the whole night whispering words that had made him believe, made him hope, and then- then this. Cold. Thrown out, not even asked to leave?

⚭

“Captain, may I speak with you for a moment?”

Jim tensed. He’d known that caving into Gaila and accepting to go eat in the mess hall would have gotten him ambushed. He’d just known. So why had he done it? He’d been perfectly fine avoiding everyone for two weeks. Why had he let her talk him into this? That girl was way too persuasive for everyone’s good.

“Mr. Spock,” he said, trying his best smile, “is it a work thing or a personal thing?” Gaila’s tilted mouth told him he hadn’t done a convincing job. Well, Gaila could shut up, this was her fault.

“A personal issue and a work related issue both, Sir.”

“Okay, then,” Jim said, trying again. Gaila full on shook her head. You win some, you lose some, he wasn’t perfect. “Shoot.”

Spock didn’t even pretend not to understand the word, nor make a reference to using his phaser. He was _serious_ serious. “I would prefer our conversation to be private, Captain.”

“Sure,” Jim said cheerfully, and Gaila grimaced. Okay, that was it. “Lieutenant Vro, is something wrong with your face?”

“ _My_ face, Sir? Oh no, I don’t think so, no. You two have a good chat!” She collected her tray - and Jim’s, taking away his last excuse to avoid this conversation - and left with a wink. Jim hadn’t actually had any intention of finishing it, but he was going to hack into her room and waste her whole evening whining about it anyway. She deserved it.

“You had not finished your meal, Captain,” Spock said, even sounding slightly worried, “do you wish to replicate more and bring it along?”

But Spock could sound like so many things without actually meaning them — Jim wasn’t going to fall for it again. “No,” he said, “I wasn’t hungry. Where do you want to go, Commander?”

“Meeting room 23 is free and in our close proximity, Sir.”

“Lead the way,” Jim tried his smile again, and felt slightly guilty when he saw that Spock was actually a little uncomfortable. Well. Jim would be uncomfortable too if the person he’d slept with and thrown out of his room had been his boss. He could at least try and be a decent Captain and force a sincere smile.

Bones and Spock didn’t know he was in love with them. Had they known, maybe they wouldn’t have initiated anything. They’d just thought… they’d just thought that Jim had flirted back as jokingly as they had. A fun night, that was everything it had been. They probably had a kink for saying loving things to people and Jim had just been a hook up. Just a hook up. A friend with benefits. There were plenty of people who did it and managed it.

He just had to suck it up and try to get over it before their relationship was ruined beyond repair. They didn’t know he was in pain. They couldn’t know he was in pain. They were so good, so utterly good, and they’d feel terrible if they knew. Jim had been stupid, and selfish, and now he got to pay the price.

So he sprinted a little, walked faster until he was side by side with Spock and the risk of ogling him was reduced to zero. That was it. Professionalism. Easy. He could do it. He’d shared a room with Bones for three years while also having the hugest crush on him, and the man had never noticed. He could be a professional captain for the next two and a half years.

“After you,” Jim said, smiling at Spock after opening the room, and stared at nothing but the corridor until Spock was inside and seated. See? Easy. He could do it. He was good at shoving his problems inside a denial box. His whole family was. He could pretend the night with them hadn’t happened and he’d be-

“I wish to discuss the night of our sexual intercourse, Captain.”

Jim stumbled in his haste to run back to the door and engage the privacy lock. “Seriously, Spock? With the door still open?”

“There was nobody in hearing range, Sir.”

Jim turned, because Spock couldn’t be serious. But he was. Very serious. He was sitting on the same chair he used for official meetings, his hands entwined on the table, staring at him as if they were discussing their refuelling stops for the month.

So much for pushing the issue into his denial box.

“Still not cool, Spock! Come on! And call me Jim, for the freaking stars, I think we can use our first names while discussing sex.”

“Are you ashamed by the idea that the crew might know of your involvement with us?”

Jim took a breath and counted to ten. Going to the mess hall had been a bad, bad idea. He couldn’t do this. He barely had it all together, he couldn’t speak with Spock, of all people, Spock - who’d had his mouth _there -_ about that night, not with this attitude, not in a meeting room, not… not ever.

But he had to. For the stars, he had to. Spock apparently was very cool with the whole thing, so much that he had no problems saying it to the corridor. Bones must also be cool with the whole thing, so Jim had no choice but being cool about it, too. He had no choice but to pretend he was fine, like he’d pretended he was fine before.

“No, Spock, that’s not the point. I just… I’d rather my crew didn’t know about my sexual life, because it’s private. I’m also not so sure we didn’t do something illegal.”

“We did not.”

“There’s no rules for sex with your senior staff?”

“There is leeway.”

This wasn’t a suggestive tone. This was Spock being normal and Jim should just quit it. He would only get hurt again. He just had to think of something smart to say to steer the conversation away.

“Leeway?” Damn it.

“Indeed.”

Okay. Jim could do this. He just had to think of this as… he didn’t even know. He just had to think about the fact that he could lose them. That having Spock find out he had feelings for them might make everything a thousand times more awkward. And then they’d start avoiding each other, they wouldn’t know how to fill the silence anymore, and they’d just fall apart. And he’d lose his two best friends, because he couldn’t be happy with what he had. No. He had to keep strong.

He sat at the table in front of Spock, resolute to have his heart broken as quickly as possible. “What do you want to discuss?”

“Two things,” Spock said, straightening a little. Wait. Was Spock nervous? He looked kind of cagey. He wasn’t looking at him, he was staring at his hands, his ears slightly more coloured than normal. He looked lost.

Jim really, really wanted to reach out and take his hand. Tell him it was all right, whatever he had to say he could say it, Jim wouldn’t love him any less.

But he couldn’t. Spock wasn’t his, Jim wasn’t Spock’s.

“Do you want to call Bones in here too? Maybe you’d be more comfortable?”

“Negative. We agreed I would speak with you alone.”

“Okay, then. There’s no need to be nervous, Spock, it was just sex. It happens to the birds and the bees.”

Spock glanced up at him suddenly, his eyes piercing, making Jim feel like he’d somehow just said something wrong. “Elaborate as to your meaning, please.”

His meaning? Had Jim said too much? Had he accidentally said sex with implication? Had he just screwed up his whole cover? “I mean- It’s just… there’s no need to be embarrassed, okay? We had sex, nothing more. What happened, happened. We’re all adults. We can talk about it freely, no need to be nervous. You’re my friend, Spock,” Jim murmured, hoping his heartbreak wasn’t polluting his smile, “you can tell me anything.”

“Very well,” Spock said, but it didn’t look like everything was very well. It certainly didn’t feel very well to him, at least. “I believe our encounter was quite satisfactory.”

Jim should have known better. He’d been aware that they didn’t feel like he did when he’d woken up alone in the cold, but. Satisfactory. That was what Jim was, thrown in his face. Just _satisfactory_. Like a good lunch at a restaurant. A well written report of an ensign.

Satisfactory. Nothing more.

Well, wasn’t it nice to know that the two men he loved found him good in bed. He was so happy he’d met their expectations. So, so happy he’d been enough entertainment for the night. Ecstatic. Maybe they could review him on Startinder. Satisfactory intercourse, five stars, would recommend.

What in the universe had made Jim believe he could do this? Why hadn’t he just faked an emergency and left? Satisfactory. This hurt like a punch to the stomach. He wanted to leave. He should leave, and not get stuck into something he wasn’t prepared to go through, like he he’d been so stupid to do last time, after that damn chess match. He’d even used his move, he’d been three meters from the door, he was an idiot.

“You are not happy with my statement.”

And Jim, Jim had grown up in a fucked up town with fucked up people and his defence mechanism was razor sharp. And he’d spent five years of his life working against it after he’d said something too mean to Bones their first week together, and he’d had to watch the hurt in his friend’s eyes before Bones had gathered his wits enough to call him exactly what he was: a dick.

“I am perfectly _satisfied_ with it, Commander,” Jim snapped back uglily, and regretted it immediately.

He didn’t know if he’d imagined that fleeting wounded look in Spock’s eyes, but he was very sure he wasn’t imagining the way he saw him immediately shut down.

This was a bad road. This would have never happened before that damn night, Jim had never lost control, he’d never been so triggered by them. He’d suffered through worse heartbreak without ever lashing out. He had to leave right that instant, before he made it worse.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, “I’m sorry, Spock. I shouldn’t have used that tone and I shouldn’t have used your rank.”

“It is your right to address me by my title, Sir,” Spock said, not even looking at him, staring stubbornly somewhere over Jim’s shoulder.

“No, look- Sorry. I won’t do it again. I don’t know why I snapped. I’m sorry. I was an ass. I understand if you don’t want to talk further.”

“There is an issue I promised both Leonard and myself that I would discuss with you, no matter your demurral.”

“Great,” Jim said, trying to smile again, “let’s discuss. Politely, I swear.”

Spock, looking slightly hesitant again, met Jim’s eyes once more. “I wish to discuss your relocation to your own quarters in the early hours of the morning.”

Jim swallowed. No. Not this. He couldn’t listen to this. He couldn’t listen to Spock explaining to him why they’d moved him. He couldn’t listen to him explaining to him why Jim couldn’t stay with them, because he knew. Because they loved each other and he was just their simple, idiot friend, because all the words they’d said against his skin they would have said to anybody, because Jim loved them but they didn’t love him back and sleeping together was just too intimate for a hook-up. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He couldn’t feel that rejection again.

“Oh, that!” Jim exclaimed, and his captain smile slid into place before he could even think of donning it. He knew how to do this.

This was like telling his mom that he was fine with her leaving again. It was like watching Sam walk away and pretend he didn’t care. It was like saying to his science teacher that he didn’t need to stay at her house for the night, things at home were fine and the mark on his cheek was from falling off his bike.

This was easy to say, easy to do. Easy to regret, but Jim didn’t have another choice.

“Don’t even mention it, please! The situation was clear, wasn’t it? Just sex. You and Bones are together, we’re just friends, we were just having some fun. I’m sorry I fell asleep in your bed, it wasn’t cool. But it was kinda your fault, you know? You wore me out.” He winked and hated himself so much. So freaking much. “You said it yourself: a satisfactory encounter. I couldn’t agree more. Just a physical thing, to burn off some stress and experiment with something new. I hope I didn’t give the impression that it was something more?”

“Just… a physical thing?”

“Just a physical thing. A very nice physical thing, might I add.”

“The… things Leonard and I said to you during-“

“Those? I know you didn’t mean them! Heat of the moment, right? No worries, I didn’t mean mine either. We all just worked together to build the right vibes. It was cool. Don’t worry about it, really,” Jim added, when Spock looked doubtful. “No strings attached. It was clear from the start. We’re just friends.”

“Just friends.”

“That’s right, nothing has to change.”

“You wish our relationship to remain unchanged?”

“Yeah, of course! It was just sex. You gave me a very good time, but I won’t pine after you. Don’t you worry.”

“I shall not.” Spock stood up, and Jim, despite thinking he’d just given the best performance of his life, felt certain he’d said something very, very wrong again. “Thank you for the discussion, Captain. It was enlightening. I shall see you at the 1800 meeting with the landing party.”

Spock exited quickly. So quickly, Jim didn’t even remember about the fact that they’d been there to discuss two things, a personal thing and a work thing, when the door closed behind him.

But it was fine, right? Jim had done the right thing. Now, Bones and Spock would know he was fine. He could stop avoiding them. They could be friends again and everything could be normal again. Maybe the work thing had just been Spock asking him to be more professional despite the encounter, and Jim had already convinced him he would. That he was fine.

Because he was fine. Maybe not now, but he would be. He’d saved them, saved their relationship and saved his friendship with them. And that was enough. It had to be enough. Because Jim couldn’t have anything more; he didn’t deserve anything more. He probably didn’t deserve even the little he had.

Spock and Bones were the most amazing people he knew.

And Jim? Jim was the one who got left behind.

He was used to it.

Dad, Mom, Sam. Spock and Bones, eventually, settling down in a nice house, teaching their kids about plants and molecules and history. If he was lucky, Jim would get to see them once in a while. Come back from the stars and bring their light with him, to remind them of how great they’d been together. How space had felt less cold when they’d been standing by his side.

⚭

“Why is he so sour? Leonard, why are you so sour?”

“Why don’t you mind your own business, Nyota?”

“Spock told him that Jim said that sex with them was just a physical thing.”

“Damn it, Christine! This is a MedBay not a gossip café!”

“What’s a gossip café? Is it a southern thing? Do people get to wear cute hats?”

“That’s it!” Leonard snapped, standing up from the microscope and accessing the settings to the privacy screen of Nyota’s bed. “You two are getting muted.”

“Oh, come on, we’re just-“

The holo went opaque, cutting her off. Leonard pinched his nose with his fingers, screwing his eyes shut and counting to ten. Then stopped. Because that had been one of the things he’d taught Jim at the Academy, back when everyone whispered and pointed every time he stepped out of the dorm, and Jim got overwhelmed and very ready to punch something. Close your eyes, count to ten and breathe, Len had told him, watching him struggle and straining not to hug him, to shield him from all the assholes who still didn’t get that Jim was bothered by the constant comparison to his dad.

“We were done, actually,” Christine trilled, suddenly next to him. Leonard opened his eyes just enough to glare. “We just like messing with you. Ruffle your feathers a little.”

“Oh yeah, blast your perfect relationship in my face, thank you very much. You know what? You’re moved to gamma shift now.”

“No, I’m not.”

No, she wasn’t. Christine was too good and Leonard could only tolerate the minimum amount of stupidity now that he had to recover from the bomb Jim had dropped on them. Just physical. Just friends. Just sex.

“Do you want Ny’s results or do you want to stay there and scowl at the universe?”

Leonard scowled and glared harder when she smiled innocently at him, but extended his hand. Like every other physical, she was in perfect health. It was a close race between her and Spock, who ate the healthiest and exercised better. They always had the best blood values.

Contrary to Jim, who ate as if he was still fourteen and exercised himself to oblivion and Leonard had to find him, scream at him and sneak-hypo him with fluids and minerals, because he couldn’t be bothered to- No, damn it, why couldn’t he just finish a single thought without thinking about Jim.

He needed a break. A year long vacation. Even better, a year long drink. Yeah, that sounded good. A year long drink. Jim would find it awes- Goddammit.

“Good job, Nyota, excellent health,” he muttered, “now put your shirt back on and stop making out with my doctor; this is a MedBay, not a strip club.”

“Of course it’s not a strip club, she wouldn’t be allowed to touch me in a strip club.”

“Of course I would, because I’d own the strip club. But put your shirt back on, love, the privacy is off.”

“I still think they misunderstood each other, by the way.”

“Yeah, Ny, so do I. Leonard, you should have gone with Spock to talk to him.”

“What exactly made you think that my private life is your business? ‘Cause I’m very willing to fix it so you can stop bugging me.”

“The fact that you’re three idiots! And we can’t wait for you to fix it! And Chris is right, Len, Spock is a dear, but he tends to jump to conclusions.”

“What else could one conclude from _just physical, just sex, just friends_?”

“Depends on the tone.”

“Totally depends on the tone.”

“Well, you could guess the tone by the face Jim made when Spock went to him in the mess hall. He looked like he was ready to be sick. He’s avoided us for days and he spends all his time with Gaila. They used to fuck, by the way.”

“ _That_ was certainly just physical,” Nyota said. “They’re just friends and they used to burn off steam that way, you don’t need to act jealous.”

“Maybe that’s all Jim does. Just physical.”

“That’s a pretty offensive generalization, Leonard,” Nyota said gelidly, “especially since you know better than me what he went through.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I’m mad, disappointed, and sleep deprived.”

“And depressed,” Christine added.

“And an ass,” Nyota said.

Leonard grunted his approval.

He didn’t remember the precise day when Nyota and Jim had become friends. One moment, she’d been all up his ass for every mistake he made, she’d been calling him out, bordering on insubordination, straight up glaring at him every time she saw him, and refusing to sit on the chair when he left her the conn until he disappeared from the bridge. And the next, he’d found them together in a rec room, Jim playing the guitar and Nyota singing along, and he’d thought he’d been injected with an hallucinogen.

From then on, Nyota had been one of Jim’s fiercest protectors. Jim had never told him what happened, and neither had Christine, though he suspected she knew. She and Nyota told each other everything.

Len was glad. Jim was amazing and the more people realised it, the less he had to scream it at them.

“You should talk to him again. Privately. Together. _Trust me_ ,” Nyota said, looking at him with what kind of felt like a threatening glare.

Christine suddenly stopped charting.“You know what might be good for them?”

“What, babe?”

“Being alone for two days.”

“Yeah, like, closing them in the brig and forcing them to-“

“No, Ny, I mean: _being alone for two days._ Alone. No contact. Alone, nobody else there. Ring any bells? _For two days_.”

“Oh!” Nyota exclaimed, looking between Christine and Leonard with increasing satisfaction. “Yes! Yes, that would do it. Too bad it doesn’t get cold at night.”

“I feel like I should know what you two are conspiring about.”

“Don’t you worry, Len,” Chris said with a loving smile, letting him know that he should actually worry very much. “We’ve got you covered.”

⚭

Leonard was an excellent doctor. Before they had entered a romantic relationship, his knowledge of Vulcan medicine had been limited, though acceptably complete. After the change in their status, he had further enriched his expertise on the matter; no part of Spock’s physiology had been neglected. Jim too, after his promotion to captaincy and Spock’s appointment as his Number One, had deepened his knowledge on Vulcan physiology and first aid.

He had not, apparently, learned that Spock’s hearing was, as his other senses and his physical strength, four times superior than humans’.

Spock had not meant to overhear. Alas, he was not the only person inside the meeting room and he was currently engaged in a conversation with Ensign Chekov. He had no logical reason to leave and no way to avoid listening in to the Captain’s own conversation with Lieutenant Commander Uhura.

“Jim, _just trust me_.”

“This is a bad idea, Nyota! They were clear with their intentions. Sending them down with me is the worst thing you could do, okay? I need some time to settle. My answer is no. That’s an order and that’s final.”

“Hell to the no! You all need to talk together again and _you_ need to stop putting words in their mouths!”

“I didn’t put anything in-“

“Jim, listen. You all need a break. This is an easy mission, the place is probably the most vibrant jungle in this whole sector. Spock will have a blast, McCoy will have a ton of samples for the article he’s writing with Sulu, and you will get a breather. And if the stars are on my side, you’ll finally have the talk you were supposed to have two weeks ago, and you’ll stop giving me headaches.”

“I don’t complain to you half as much as I complain to Gaila.”

“ _Yes_ , and then she comes to me to complain about you complaining and ruining her dates. So I get a headache.”

“Look, I get what you’re trying to do, I do, and I’m saying no. No! This is an order, Lieutenant Commander, no, no, _no_ , absolutely not, n-“

“Why do we need to have these things when everything’s already been decided?” Leonard complained loudly, entering the room flanked by Christine.

Spock did not miss the way he immediately saw Jim, the pain tinging his eyes, the yearning. Their bond had been resonating with their disappointment since they had woken up alone, Jim long gone from their bed, the heat of his body lost, leaving only cold sheets. Having Jim’s rejection voiced had not improved their situation.

Leonard found Spock’s gaze soon after, walked to him, and Spock brushed their fingers together, offering the little comfort he could.

“I think we should start,” Jim said, his voice strained as if he were performing a physical exercise, and Spock looked up with Leonard to see him biting his lip and staring straight at the table, already at his seat, his cheeks slightly coloured.

They joined him, one at each side of him, where they were supposed to be, though now, only in rank. Jim did not wish for anything more. His eyes met with Leonard’s over the table, and Spock knew, and would have known without the bond, that he had just come to the same conclusion. That was all the comfort Jim would ever allow them to give him, all the devotion: work and friendship. Nothing more. Jim was not theirs, and they were not Jim’s.

Jim did not wish for this to change.

They would offer all that Jim allowed them to offer, all he accepted to receive. And they would keep the memory of him, of his essence mixed with theirs, close to their hearts.

“Thank you all for coming, let’s make this as quick as we can. The landing party consists of myself, Lieutenant Commander Uhura, Doctor Chap-“

“Oh, no, Ny can’t go.” Jim stopped, frowning at Doctor Chapel with a warning glare. “She can’t go, Captain, I did her physical today. She’s not fit for making the landing party.”

“ _Really_ ,” Jim said, and moved his eyes to Leonard. “Bones? Did you see Nyota’s physical results?”

“… I did,” Leonard said, frowning at Christine himself and receiving two synchronised menacing looks from both her and Nyota. Spock looked at them in turns, confused as to what was happening outside of his knowledge.

“ _And_?” Jim pressed, though he was not looking at Leonard anymore, but rather intensely at Nyota who, in turn, had a completely serene expression on her face.

“It is…” Leonard looked at Spock, at Jim, and eventually at Christine. She raised her eyebrows. Spock was now very positive a whole conversation was happening outside of his understanding. To the grating feeling of Jim’s own emitted frustration against his mental shields, he was not the only one. Leonard opened his mouth, said: “Goo-“ then hissed, bent over himself and glared right at Nyota, who smiled back innocently. Somehow, Spock’s shin had started hurting. “…bad. She can’t go.”

Spock sent a questioning wave at him, and received only a shrug in return.

Jim did not look impressed; he had started glaring harder at his Communications Officer; she appeared unfazed.

“You don’t say,” Jim spoke from clenched teeth, “say, now, can I see it?”

“It’s a personal medical file, Captain,” Christine replied, still sounding deferential, though Spock had no doubts she was leading the unspoken challenge that was permeating the air between them. Ensign Chekov looked ready to bolt. “And to access it, you need her permission, and the permission of her assigned medical officer. Or, you can COMM HR, send them form beta-three-three-seven-gamma-six, and wait two weeks for them to consider your request. Too bad the landing party leaves tomorrow, huh?”

“I don’t give my permission,” Nyota said, blowing Jim a kiss.

“Oh, pity, neither do I. That’s too bad, Sir, I’m so sorry. I can give you the form if you want it, Captain. They’re _so_ quick at HR.”

Jim sighed, let his head fall against the table with a loud noise. Spock met Leonard’s gaze, and they silently discussed whether or not a comforting hand on his back would be appreciated, when Jim spoke again, his voice quite resigned. “And you, Christine? Wanna tell me your excuse or should I just assume you have one?”

“I have data from the USS Farragut for my Andorian Fever study I need to look over, I really can’t leave the ship.”

Jim raised his head again, glaring once more. “The data you’ve had for three weeks?”

“Exactly right, Sir. I recommend you send Dr. McCoy down, it’s his study and Lieutenant Sulu trusts him to collect the right samples in his stead. Right, Mr. Sulu?”

“…Yes, I… sure do.”

“And you recommend Commander Spock too, right?” Nyota said, “He’s the most qualified scientist of the ship and he can help Dr. McCoy with the correct sampling if he has any doubts on botanics.”

“…He sure can.”

“See, Captain? I solved it. There’s no need to worry. Lieutenant Commander Uhura will be good as new when you’re back. In the meantime, she can have Ensign Chekov help her on the conn when she’s tired, so he can get his hours for Command fast-track.”

“Fantastic,” Jim said, sounding anything but. “ _Thank you so much_.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome, Sir. Have a _fantastic_ trip.”

“Oh yes, we all wish you a fantastic trip. We’ll be waiting to hear about it, won’t we, guys? One would almost say, there are bets at stake.”

Spock was not enthused about the prospect of partaking in the away mission. They would have to spend two days in close contact with Jim, in a moment where the wound from his rejection was still open and raw. They would have to sleep together, since they would be beamed down with only one tent. Two tents, Lieutenant Uhura said, would be a waste of Starfleet resources.

Spock attempted to use logic to have the second tent added to their approved beam down registry, though Nyota conjured up multiple scenarios where that single tent out of the five hundreds on board the Enterprise would be more necessary to them than to the beaming party. Spock stopped, not out of defeat, though out of worry for Jim, who had started murmuring about his wonder over whether or not the sensation he was experiencing was a stroke.

He refused medical attention when Spock suggested it and he refused to partake in the single tent discussion.

It would not be easy for any of them. That much was certain. Despite his silence, it was clear Jim shared their apprehension. After the meeting, he disappeared, leaving the conn to him and speaking of a computer malfunction in engineering that required his undivided attention. Spock had not heard of such a thing in Lieutenant Vro’s last report, though Leonard invited him to keep his silence with a sad look, and Spock did. Jim wished to be alone. If the prospect of having to go through the mission with them brought him that much apprehension, the least they could do was respect his space.

They had not seen him since.

“These backpacks were designed to make you frustrated!” Leonard said, then started to repeatedly hit his water container to force it to fit into a pocket it was not meant to occupy.

“I do not believe that is supposed to go there, _k’diwa_.”

“Well, that’s where it’s going! The water pocket has my secondary portable MedKit. The stars know how many things Jim will be allergic to down there.”

“Should you not place the kit on the magnetic attachment on the outside?”

“Yeah, they want me to, but that clasp is shit, I’m telling you. If you add any more weight than the standard kit, a blow of wind makes everything fall off.”

“Attach the secondary kit to my bag. I do not need the clasp.”

“You’re not bringing the molecular sequencer?”

“I believe myself capable of classifying the plants you need without it.”

“Of course you are,” Leonard murmured, his voice sarcastic though his mind warm with affection, and he let their fingers brush when he handed over the kit. The water bottle fitting perfectly inside its designated container was satisfying to watch. “‘kay, I’m ready. We can go.”

They left the heat of their quarters side by side, holding hands. Leonard had not slept that night and neither had Spock. He had managed to meditate enough to settle his trepidation, though he had not cleared himself of it. The mission was indeed interesting; Spock was satisfied at the prospect of collecting the samples personally; he had studied the scans of the newly discovered planet intensely and he knew its thriving life would make a beautiful sight. Still, he did not believe spending close time with Jim would help any of them overcoming the friction that their intercourse had created. Pretending indifference would not come easy to Spock nor Leonard, and they were already behind on sleep.

“Can’t believe I’m going to spend forty-eight hours eating nutripacks.”

“I surveyed the contents — it is mostly macro-nutrient bars.”

“Even worse!”

“I believe there will be an abundance of fruits and berries in the jungle; it is likely most of them will be edible.”

“Fruits and macro-bars. Jim will have a blast.”

“Indeed he will.”

“This is a mutiny!” Jim’s voice welcomed them to the transporter room before the door could fully open. He too looked like he had not slept much. Truthfully, he had not looked his best since the night they had spent together. He had lost weight, Spock now noticed, and his eyes were red rimmed. He longed to comfort him, to place his hand on Jim’s shoulder and be welcomed with a grateful smile.

He did not know if the gesture would be appreciated anymore.

“You’re such a child,” Nyota answered, her hand on Ensign Chekov’s shoulder as he worked on the screen. “Oh, hey Spock, Leonard!”

“Greetings,” Spock answered. “Captain.”

“Hey there,” Jim said, barely turning in their direction, “sure you’re up for this?”

Weeks ago, he would have turned fully. He would have smiled brilliantly and he would have walked up to them, clasping their shoulders, teasing Leonard’s unwillingness to step into a world of unknown dangers, laughing at Spock’s remarks, his illogical, fond habit. He would have laughed and he would have been filled with life and joy at the prospect of exploring.

Weeks ago, they would have spent the night before a mission playing chess and discussing useless, illogical details. They would have listened to Jim bringing his imagination to life with his words, describing what he was expecting, overusing hyperbolic colloquialisms, unaware of the fondness he generated in Leonard and Spock when he looked so eager, so young and free.

Jim had not looked his usual self for weeks. Leonard had noticed too; the bond was filled with his apprehension. He was staring intensely at Jim, at the place where the cloth of his jacket lay slumped, flesh no longer filling out its lines to perfection.

“We forgot something,” Leonard exclaimed, and pulled Spock back towards the door.

“We did not-“

“Yes, we did!” The doors closed between them and the transporter, and Leonard’s eyes were burning in his. “Jim looks like shit — something’s wrong. We need to fix this.”

“He does not wish us to-“

“He doesn’t want a romantic relationship with us, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t need us as his friends! Something’s clearly bothering him and we need to suck it up and be there for him; it’s not his fault we’re in love with him. We can’t lose him over this, Spock! He needs us. Yesterday we didn’t have his back and he got stuck with us while he clearly didn’t want to.e’ll use these two days to fix it. Friends is better than nothing.”

It was painful — to hear and to say — though Leonard was right. “Friends is better than nothing, yes.”

“Then you agree? We fix this?”

“Jim did not look comfortable in my presence when I attempted to discuss our night together, I am not sure as to how we could start.”

“Leave it to me. Play along. No mentions of that night. We’ll pretend it never happened, okay?”

“Acceptable, though…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s gonna suck for a long while. Doesn’t mean he gets to suffer too.”

“Indeed he does not.” _Just friends_ , and yet it seemed they had lost that, too, to Jim’s detriment. “I miss him significantly.”

Leonard sighed. He entered Spock’s space and lay his forehead on Spock’s shoulder, sharing their misery. “I miss him too. We have two days. We can do it, right?”

“We can.”

“Then let’s go. In thirty seconds. I just need thirty more seconds like this.”

Spock circled Leonard’s form with his arms and pulled him tighter, until he could feel the heat of his skin through their uniforms. “Acceptable.”

“Absolutely not up for this,” Leonard said when they entered the transporter room again, shaking off the sadness clinging to his skin with remarkable ease. He walked up to Jim and scowled, putting his backpack down and crossing his arms. “You say pretty jungle, all I hear is an illness dump. Colourful plants? Poisonous plants. Colourful animals? Venomous animals! Water channels? Bacteria that will liquefy our guts! This is my nightmare. We’re going to catch an augmented malaria picking flowers.”

“Great,” Jim answered, hesitant, though slowly turning amused. And relieved. He appeared relieved and he was turning his torso in their direction and straightening his spine. “That’s the attitude, Bones.”

“The least you can do is use your head and try to have no more than three allergic reactions, you brat!”

“Hey! That’s not my fault!”

“Hell yeah it’s your fault! It’s like reverse psychology with a toddler with you! You say, _don’t touch the menacing plant, Jim_ , and the next moment you’re halfway down its mouth and I get covered in slime to get you out!”

“This again? I told you a thousand times — I didn’t touch that plant, the plant grabbed me!”

“Oh yeah? Then why did you have that powder on your hand?”

“I was trying to break free!”

“Then why was it only on the tip of your index? Is that how you get free, Jim, by poking it?”

“Sulu had told us it was precious and I didn’t want to damage it, so I was careful!“

Spock met Nyota’s amused gaze with a quirk of his eyebrow, letting the banter wash over him. It was stunted, slightly hesitant, carefully tentative. But it was familiar. And it was enough to let him hope for a successful use of their time together. Nyota and Christine might have been right. The trip had been necessary to assure Jim their friendship could be maintained, nothing more.

He was still uncertain about the single tent.

“Settle down, children,” Nyota said, “Ensign Chekov is ready for you.”

“Spock,” Jim asked, collecting his bag and stepping up next to him on the platform, taking the front, “back me up on this! Tell Bones I didn’t touch the plant!”

“As I told you both eleven times before,” Spock said, “I spent that mission collecting mineral samples and I did not witness the event. Therefore, I cannot offer constructive input.”

“Try and not take off your mask before I test the air for pollens, you fool. I only have so many adrenaline hypos.” Leonard took Jim’s left, and for a moment, it was as if their misunderstanding had never happened and all was as it had been before, their yearning secret and their friendship cemented.

“I know that; I’m not an idiot, Bones!”

“Would’ve fooled me!”

“Will you quit it?”

“You started it! And put your damn mask on!”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Mask!!”

Spock sighed. “Energise, please, Mr. Chekov.”

“I am putting the mask on, _mom_! And no, I didn’t start it, you did!“

“Energising, Commander!”

“It’s not starting if it’s commenting on your endless stream of bad decisions regarding plants and pollens!”

“I told you I didn’t touch the plant!”

“And I told you that-“

The beam of the transporter took hold of them, silencing their fight. The planet welcomed them in trilling noises and quiet rustlings, the pure, wild, blossoming life hitting Spock’s senses. It was sweet, earthy, damp and rich. Flowers and fruits, leaves and pollens, fur and amber mixing in his nostrils. He had never scented such a rich, living aroma.

“Nobody move!” Leonard ordered, taking his tricorder and activating it. “I don’t trust those damn drones. Reliable scanners, my ass.”

It was both bright and shadowed. The trees towered over them, and their leaves fell in rustling waterfalls all around them, slim, red, orange, and blue columns that danced in the air and brushed the ground. Their trunks rose as entwined tentacles, solid and hulking, some hollowed and bent, some tight with knots, creating a pattern of infinite diversity, infinite shapes. Undisturbed by any foreign presence, the fauna thrived. Glowing dots flew in circles and rounds, meeting and separating, raising and descending; iridescent hexapods and octopods exited and disappeared in the soft moss beneath their feet; on the trees, small animals rustled the leaves and shook the branches, flashes of their blue fur appearing between openings; in the air, birds flew and landed in swirls and flutterings of wings.

“This is… wow,” Jim whispered, and Spock turned, and fell in love again.

In the orange-blue rays that streamed and reflected from the ceiling of leaves, Jim looked ethereal. He was smiling, so open, so free, his eyes alight with life, with joy and wonder, his lips open slightly beneath the filter, as if breathing the marvel in. He raised a hand, and one of the minuscule flying creatures landed carefully on his skin, its light warm and white, making Jim’s tan sparkle. He laughed, delighted, and Spock met Leonard’s eyes, saw his own yearning and devotion mirrored in his longing gaze. They would never stop loving him. They would never fail him again.

More lights followed, landing on Jim’s fingers, on his sleeves, on his shoulders and on his hair. One, hesitant in its circles, lay softly between his eyebrows. Jim laughed again, and crossed his eyes to see, his mouth curved upwards so softly, so beautifully.

He was magnificent.

“Are you going to scream at me for this, Bones?” Jim asked, “Because this time it’s really not my fault. Spock can attest that I didn’t move.”

“They’re harmless,” Leonard said, still staring wide eyed at the wondrous man they had fallen in love with, his voice cracking with affection. “You can take off your mask, no pollens you’re allergic to. None that we know of, at least.”

Jim was careful to move his hands, careful not to disturb, though not enough. The lights left his moving arms as a glowing cloud of stars, circling and rounding him as he lowered his mask, flying around him and over him, finding new places to sit: on his chest, on his back, a brave one daring the tip of his nose. Jim laughed again, leaving his arms spread in front of him and waiting for more of them to land. He met Spock’s eyes and smiled wider, and Spock felt his chest tremble, his skin warm, and all the love he had for this man rise to the surface. Enchanting. A vision. His features so young and open, delighted and free like Spock had never seen.

“What’s up with these guys?”

It took him three full seconds to formulate a response and deliver it with a stable voice. “They seem to prefer the yellow leaves and flowers, Captain. Your uniform, skin, and hair are similar in tone.”

“I feel like a fairytale prince,” Jim said, not aware of how much he looked the part. Spock, despite feeling Jim’s eyes on him, had to look away, to look at Leonard before he became overwhelmed, before words that must not be spoken slipped out of his lips. Leonard smiled sadly, and between them, the yearning hurt a fraction, the tiniest fraction, less.

It broke the spell that had kept the moment magical.

“We should set up camp,” Jim said. “Sorry, guys, fly back to your homes.” He shook his arms and passed his jacket and hair with his hands, and in a blur of stars and shines, almost all the lights flew away. A few remained circling him, though Jim seemed unfazed. “You already have three camp options we need to compare, right, Spock?”

⚭

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been told by my SO that this chapter prompted frustrated screaming -- please, do feel free to scream at me here, on tumblr, or wherever really lol
> 
> This was my first time writing McCoy's POV and I really liked it, I hope you will too!
> 
> If you find a mistake, please point it out :)


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to the very nice people who commented for making my day, and to all those who left kudos!

The jungle felt like a secret treasure, a sacred space, and Jim, walking and breathing it, almost fancied himself a Verne character. Life thrived around them hidden between the curtains of leaves, in flashes of fur, in fallen feathers, in the rainbow reflections of a golden insect. Twice he’d thought he’d seen some sort of blue squirrel jumping above them. His hand itched to grab his PADD and start a log, speak everything he was seeing, everything he was hearing, not to miss any detail, any brush or any trill, to carry the magical feeling of the place with him, to pass it on as genuinely as he was living it.

As he followed Spock, he couldn’t decide whether to look up or down, to the shaken branches and the blurs of feathers that stilled if he paused and stared a second too long, or to where the moss changed colour with the pressure of their steps, going from blue to red to yellow, but only if Jim pressed the tip of his boot down hard.

Bones didn’t seem to mind having to stop behind him every time Jim got distracted with something. He huffed, but otherwise stayed silent, only his tricorder whirring softly and his fingers tapping quickly filling the silence. The road became harsher after a while, though, and Jim tripped twice, earning himself a laugh and a snort. Spock turned each time, but went back to walking as soon as he’d made sure they were both all right. 

The third time, Bones grabbed Jim’s waist to stop him from falling on his face just in time, but he pulled Jim back too vigorously, enough to squish their torsos together, Jim’s behind suddenly very snugly fit against his pelvis. 

The memories came crashing down immediately. 

Jim found his mind back in Spock’s rooms; he could almost smell Spock’s favourite incense in the damp air, he could feel the ghost of Bones’s hands on his hips, pulling him back, tearing him away from Spock to pull Jim against himself and thrust, reminding him now that they had fit together so perfectly and Jim- Jim couldn’t stop himself from hissing, flinching slightly and coiling all of his muscles to stop his blood from going anywhere near the lower regions, making things awkward when they’d just started feeling normal again.

“Sorry,” Bones said, jumping back as if burned. “Sorry, Jim, I didn’t mean to grab you like that.”

“It’s okay,” Jim said, staring at the ground, not trusting himself to turn around, not yet. 

“You alright? I’m really sorry, Jim, truly.”

He was sorry. For touching Jim for three seconds, completely clothed. He really, really must want to underline Spock’s point. Satisfactory, but nothing else, thank you. Sorry I touched you again, because I clearly didn’t want to. 

“Don’t be.” Jim breathed in, breathed out. He wanted to count to ten, but he couldn’t let the silence continue for ten seconds, not when it was already uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t be. You stopped me from breaking my nose, probably, so… thank you. Sorry for making you look out for me, I know you have your scans to focus on. I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

“No, Jim, just wait a minute-“

“What happened?” Spock had reappeared in front of them and was looking at them with growing confusion.

“Nothing,” Jim said immediately, “I was being an idiot and tripped, Bones grabbed me. Nothing, really. Let’s go. Did you find the spot? It should be here, right? We’ve been walking for three minutes.”

“It is ten meters east.”

“Great,” Jim said, “east? Can’t wait to see it.” He passed Spock quickly, his head straight down, counting every root and rock, intent on not tripping once for the next forty-eight hours. 

The planet was amazing, but Jim, Jim had needed to go down with Nyota, Chris, and Sulu. He’d been looking forward to that, to spending two days away from the Enterprise, breathing fresh air and being surrounded by something alien enough to lower the number of things that reminded him of Spock and Bones to zero. Because he loved his ship. He did. He always had. 

But. Every corridor looked the same. And when every corridor looked the same, every corridor was shaped like the corridor he’d caught them kissing the first time. Every corridor looked like the one he’d seen them push and pull the other into a storage closet, tearing at clothes. Every corridor held them, walking hand in hand, perfect and solid.

Everything on the Enterprise reminded him of them, of what he couldn’t have. 

If he wanted to step out of his rooms, he couldn’t do it without having their door in his line of sight. He couldn’t retire without knowing they were going to bed too, and he wasn’t welcome.

He’d needed this, he’d wanted to get down here for days. And now that he was, now that he could finally put images to his imagination, breathe fresh oxygen and drink water that wasn’t recycled and tasted of metal, the only thing he wanted to do was to be beamed back up and hide in his room. To be alone. 

“Captain?”

“Mh?”

“This is the first possible spot for our camp.”

“Oh.” Jim stopped walking, looking at Spock through another wall of leaves. Oh, so apparently Jim couldn’t even walk straight anymore. He’d missed it, and he would have gone on walking until he’d gotten completely lost. Spock raised his hand to move the leaves sideways and let Jim step through without comment. Jim decided he’d just pretend his deviation had been intentional and looked around, taking in the sight, the terrain, the reasons why Spock had chosen it. “Nice.”

It was a small opening, but it was completely flat, and the trees around it had curved harmoniously in a concave ring, their tops so thickly entwined that they covered any trace of the sky. 

“The twenty meters deep pool of water is nine point seven meters further away than it was shown on the scans, though it is there.”

“Can we drink it?”

“We’ll see,” Bones said, eying him with a focus Jim wasn’t ready to sustain. 

Jim was filled with the sudden, crawling need to be alone, to crouch down, put his head between his knees and get himself back together. “Why don’t you go try?”

“The water?”

“Yes. Both of you, go try the water. I’ll wait here and see if reception is good with all these leaves.”

“Captain,” Spock started, “protocol clearly dictates that no individual should remain alone on any surface missions, especially on newly-discovered planets. Furthermore, your rank requires-“

“It’s ten meters, Spock, come on!”

“It is nine point seven meters _further_ , Sir; the actual distance from this point to the pool is twenty-seven point five-two meters, calculated by the tricorder with a thirty-five centimetres margin of error.”

“Sure, whatever, it’s the same: ten, thirty, go check it out!”

“Captain, I must insist that you-“

“Let’s go check it out, Spock,” Bones said firmly, “he’s not allergic to anything, scans showed no aggressive fauna or flora in the area, he’ll be fine. He’s an adult. Let’s go.” Bones’s insistence that they leave him behind stung slightly; Jim had kind of wished, no matter how stupidly, that he’d fight him on it like Spock had. But Bones must still be upset about their accident, and Jim really, really wanted to be alone, so it was fine. Relief washed away any trace of it after he watched them disappear into the jungle. And he was alone.

Jim crouched down, put his hands over his face and breathed. Counted to ten. Counted again. 

He could do this. Before he’d tripped, Bones had been normal, before-sex normal, and his mood had only soured when Jim had put them in that equivocal position. He just had to cut any mentions of that night. Any situation felt remotely similar, he would leave. Or scream, or pretend he was fainting, or do something to make them all snap out of it. 

Two days. He could do it.

He didn’t need to check in with the Enterprise, the tricorders would have picked up on the lack of signal, but he wanted to do it anyway. Just to hear Nyota’s dry voice and maybe ask her to scold him back to professionalism. Or beg her to beam him up. He’d go with the flow.

He took his communicator from his belt and flicked it open, losing his gaze between the rustling leaves that had hidden Spock and Bones from view as they’d been walking away.

“Kirk to Enterprise.”

“Uhura here, Captain.”

A sudden wave shook the leaves, and Jim looked up. And gasped. Oh. 

“Captain?”

Oh stars, oh stars, oh stars.

“Captain? Are you there?”

“Shhh!” Jim hissed. 

That was- that was the cutest thing Jim had ever seen. It hadn’t been squirrels moving between the branches, no. The thing that was descending slowly, carefully studying him, looked more like a very puffy lemur, with big, big eyes and the softest blue fur, shining purple when a firefly flew close to it. It had triangle ears with small orange clumps coming out of their opening, and the biggest, softest looking tail Jim had ever seen, a mix of dark and light blue, orange, and red.

“Hi, buddy,” Jim whispered when the little dude got to the ground, immobile as it stared Jim with wide eyes. “Hi! Wanna come near?”

The small thing hesitated, but eventually did, walking forward on its four small paws, looking even more adorable than when it was climbing down.

“Hi!” Jim repeated, “Oh, stars, hi! What a brave little thing, huh?”

It got closer and closer, growing bolder as it saw that Jim wasn’t moving, and eventually stopped just shy of Jim’s knees, raising up on its two hind legs, exposing a soft, fuzzy orange belly and putting its chin up, forepaws bent close just beneath it.

“Yes, you made it, buddy! Oh, you’re so cute! Do you want food? I don’t know what you eat, though. Nyota, you should see this, I have the cutest little thing in front of me, huge eyes and this enormous tail, and it came close and-“

Before Jim could react, the animal reached out and, fast as lightning, grabbed Jim’s communicator and put it in its mouth. They stared at each other in silence for half a second, Jim’s mind having to replay what the hell had just happened, before-

“Hey!” Jim exclaimed, “hey no, that’s important, don’t-“

Startled, the animal jumped back, running arrow fast back to his curtain of leaves.

“Shit,” Jim cursed, standing up and running after him, “shit, shit, shit, no wait! Wait, please! Oh, shit, shit, shit.”

He looked around, tried pulling at the boughs, but the animal had already disappeared inside the ceiling of branches and joined the random rustlings, mixing with its peers. 

“Shit!”

He’d just got robbed by a freaking alien lemur. He’d just- Spock would never let him hear the end of this. He’d write this on the report. Jim could already see it. He was never going to live this down. Nyota would tease him to his death bed.

“Hey, buddy! I can give you food? I can give you other shiny things in exchange? Here, want my badge? I don’t need it, take it! Please?”

He waved his badge, his water bottle, his PADD, a freaking opened macro bar all around the area. No lemur got down. Well, he couldn’t really blame it, the macro bars sucked.

“Really? Nothing?! Come on!! Look how bright and pretty my badge is! Don’t you want it? _Please_?”

No answer. Jim walked to the cascade of boughs it had disappeared into, squinting towards the openings. No luck. No movement either, the evil genius. They did know to intentionally stop moving when he was looking, then, it hadn’t been just his impression. 

Well. That place was as good as any. Maybe it was still up there and it hadn’t moved, waiting to see what Jim would do?

“Come on, buddy! Take the badge! I know you want to come down! See how shiny it is? Come on!”

A rustle on his left and Jim spotted it immediately, cheeks still wide with Jim’s communicator and eyes gleaming between the leaves. He could swear the little imp looked triumphant.

“Yes! Hey!” He ran to the nearest tree trunk, jumping up and trying to wave the badge in front of its face. “Come on! Let’s trade, okay? No, no, no, no don’t disappear again! _Come on!_ Where are you? Come on, take the badge! See the badge? See how nice? Please, just-“

“Jim? What… what are you doing?”

“Bones!” Jim twirled around, meeting two equally puzzled looks. Yes, well, Jim might not look his best up there, but he had a good reason. A good reason he was going to explain clearly and logically and professionally any minute now, because he was a freaking captain and he wasn’t embarrassed by this at all. “I- This- I just got robbed.”

“You what?”

“I just… there was this little dude, you know, kind of a blue-purple lemur, it climbed down and came close while I was on the COMM with Nyota, and just… grabbed my communicator? And put it in its mouth! And then it ran away! And so I thought that if I convinced it to come down or take my pin instead, it would maybe…”

“You thought that if you gave another shiny thing to a wild animal that has never seen civilisation in its life, it would trade you back your communicator?”

“Well. It sounds stupid when you say it like that, but- hey! There it is! That one, see? My comm is still in its mouth, the little- No, don’t go again!! Damn it! Bones, quick, climb up there, we need to surround it.”

“Perhaps the best course of action would be not to add to the number of people climbing trees without the proper safety measures, Sir.”

“Yes, Jim, you just got robbed by a lemur, no big deal, come down. And tell us again how menacing it was, this evil genius.”

“ _Are you filming this_?”

“What? No, of course not. I’m holding the PADD up because of reasons.”

“Stop filming me! That’s an order!”

“It’s nothing personal, I’m documenting for scientific purposes. Tell us now, Captain: for the record, just how little was this dude?”

“Spock, make him stop!”

“Leonard, I fail to see the relevance of investigating the size of the animal. Instead, since the Captain allowed it to get close enough to be in reach of his communicator, I believe the most relevant question is its physical comeliness.” Jim opened his mouth in astonishment and snapped it close before a firefly flew in. The traitor.

Bones’ face lit up more than the damn fireflies. “Jim,” he said, saccharine and glowing with glee. “Jim, Jim, Jim. Did you just get robbed because you thought a wild animal was cute?”

“…Alright, fine, yes! I thought it was cute, I was telling Nyota about it, and it took me by surprise!! Happy? I swear to god, I’m going to start eating anything I can find until I either go into anaphylactic shock or you stop filming.”

“Don’t- Don’t do that!”

“Then stop filming!”

“Fine!

“Fine!”

Jim stepped down carefully, landing on his feet, looking at the yellow around his boots slowly turn red. Then he met Bones’ eyes.

“Was it cuddly, though?”

“One more question and I’m punching you.”

“It’s for survival tactics, Jim! The forest is robbing us! I need to know if I have to look out for things that are just cute, or cute and cuddly!”

“Despite his juvenile jesting,” Spock said, “Leonard is partially correct. The cute blue-purple lemurs, as you described them, Captain, might all be attracted to metallic equipment and prone to purloining it. Thus, we will ensure to fit it all inside the tent, or secure it from their grasp.”

“Should we choose another one of your camping options?”

“I do not believe them far enough to spare us of the animals’ presence, Sir.”

“Great. Then what? Force field?”

“That will not be necessary, Captain. I believe us capable of outmanoeuvring small mammals. Physiologically, at least, we should all possess the necessary evolutionary cerebral advantages.”

“I feel like I just got roasted.”

“You did.”

“Shut up, Bones!”

⚭

Even if Leonard had nearly screwed up their whole friendship plan by pulling Jim’s ass against his lap, at least he had that. The video of Jim, on a tree, trying to bribe a lemur to give him his stolen communicator back. It didn’t take all the sting of Jim’s flinch and rigidness at being close to him away, but it did mitigate it a little. 

At least Jim was looking at him in the eye again. 

Threatening to punch him, yes, but that was just Jim’s love language when he was embarrassed. Well, he hoped it was. What the hell did he know? He couldn’t seem to do anything right with him. 

Making camp took longer than they’d planned. It was also hot as hell, so they all got rid of their jackets. It didn’t really help much, the humidity was still up to crazy levels, but it was something.

Watching Jim lift the beamed down equipment with his undershirt clinging to his skin, arms gleaming with sweat, was certainly a plus.

The single tent looked small from the outside, but from his childhood camping memories, he knew tents always did; they could all probably fit inside. Maybe sideways. He’d make sure to put Spock in the middle, though. He’d been the one who’d lost the argument with Nyota about the number of tents anyway, straight up giving up after five minutes and listening to her while looking like he was questioning his choice to refuse the VSA all those years ago. Maybe he should check on him about that. He was staring at the tent like he sometimes stared at his father’s COMMs. 

“Hey, hon…”

“I am fine.”

“You know it freaks me out when you anticipate my questions, right?”

“I apologise. Your intentions were rather loud.”

“Someone very logical once told me: fine has variable meanings, fine is unacceptable.” Leonard reached him and pulled him away from the tent slightly, making him turn to capture his lips in a gentle kiss. Behind them, Jim dropped something heavy and metallic, and cursed.

“You okay?” When he saw that Leonard was watching, he fumbled again with the EM receiver, dropping it and cursing once more.

“Peachy,” Jim said, sounding anything but. “Sorry. It’s not broken. I think.”

“Allow me to check,” Spock said, brushing Leo’s fingers as he walked away. Jim nearly dropped the thing again.

“Jim? You sure you’re all right? You didn’t eat anything around here, did you?” Leonard took out his tricorder while walking and slapped Jim’s hand away when he tried to move it. “Jitters? Shivers?”

Jim slapped his hand right back and moved away. “I’m fine.” 

Leonard glared and followed.“You dropped the same thing three times!”

“I was just distracted, all right?”

“By what?”

“I… I thought I saw that lemur again, no big deal. Take that thing away from my face!”

Leonard did, but only because the readings looked normal. His heart rate was elevated, but he had just been lifting heavy stuff. “Drink water and have an electrolyte bag, you’re dehydrated.”

“Fine. Why didn’t we know it would be this hot, anyway?”

“The average temperature was at least ten degrees lower. I believe the trees must be responsible.”

“Fantastic.” He looked up. “Is it me or are the plants glowing?”

They were. As it turned out, the jungle had the amazing benefit of lighting up like holiday LED decorations. There was some kind of resin all over the branches and trunks that lit up at dusk, all yellow and blue. Spock looked like a kid at his birthday party just at the idea that he had two whole nights to study it. 

Leonard could see the potential application, and he was glad to see him so happy despite everything, but to him, it just made the prospect of those two nights grimmer. Sleeping in that heat, without darkness, and squeezed in that freaking tent like sardines would be a blast.

If possible, the animals living in the trees were becoming louder as the night fell. Leonard was a heavy sleeper, but contrary to Jim, it took ages for him to fall asleep, and while he tried, the minimum disturbance got him into that delicious murdering mood where sleep looked like the last thing his brain was ready to allow him to have.

He just hoped he’d manage to keep his glances respectful in those forty hours left of the mission, all with the insomnia he’d one hundred percent have and Jim shedding more and more clothes as time went on. Who brought gym shorts to a land mission, anyway?

And why did they have to look like that on him? Why couldn’t the universe have one single mercy on his soul and give James Kirk uglier shorts? Or a worse ass?

“Bones? I’m going to get more water, you need a fill up?” Oh great. The undershirt had disappeared too, and Jim’s perfect chest hit him like a slap in the face. Leonard shoved his bottle at him and promptly put Spock’s bulk between them before his resolve cracked and he started staring a tad too much.

“Perhaps,” Spock said after Jim disappeared, the thinness of his voice mirroring Leonard’s own frustration, “we should have further argued in favour of having two tents.”

“You don’t say.”

“Despite the… distracting element, Jim’s state of undress is logical. You should apply it too; you are getting progressively dehydrated.”

“I know,” Leonard sighed, “I just hate how the humidity feels on my skin after a while. But I guess I will. You should too. Yes, you don’t sweat, I know, don’t you start. It’s still better for heat dispersion. If it weren’t so muddy on the ground I’d take off my boots too.”

Spock started taking off his undershirt. “I attempted to COMM the Enterprise to ask for an additional tent. Nyota kept insisting she could not hear me, though I could hear her perfectly well. Most curious.”

Leonard snorted, folding his and pushing it into his backpack. “Ever since they got together, Chris and Ny have increased their sass to-“

The metallic noise of flasks falling to the ground made them both turn. Jim was staring at them with wide eyes and a slightly opened mouth, but he closed it with a snap when Leonard raised an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry,” Jim mumbled, crouching to the ground, his thigh muscles flexing deliciously under his skin. _No, damn it, McCoy, get a hold of yourself_. “Sorry, sorry. It- I… Lemur! Lemur, again.”

Leonard looked up, trying to see between the leaves, but didn’t catch sight of it. Well, the trees looked like they were crawling with them, and they now knew that they were smart enough to hide from them. He didn’t think Jim was seeing his comm any time soon, no matter how many times he said he saw the lemur that had taken it.

“Captain? Are you certain you are all right? It is the fourth time you have dropped a heavy weight.”

“I’m fine, Spock, thank you. And it’s Jim, come on, we’re all without shirts, I think we can drop the formalities.”

“Maybe you should sit a bit, Jim, and drink some water. You look a little flushed.”

“Yeah,” Jim said, carefully not meeting their eyes and just sitting down right where he was, “yeah, I’ll do that. Oh. Your water, here you go.” Leonard pushed Spock forward to take both their bottles because he currently did not trust himself to get near sweaty, flushed Jim without jumping his bones or getting caught staring inappropriately. At all.

“You want a sheet or a towel or something?” he asked, because the moss felt soft but it also felt very much wet and sitting on it might not feel the best. Especially in those shorts.

“Nah,” Jim said, studiously cleaning the dirt below his nails, and what was that about? Hell, had he noticed Leonard’s stares and was too uncomfortable to look at him again? He was an idiot. He had to stop. Jim was a forbidden zone, he couldn’t stare, damn it. He just had to look anywhere else. Pretend he didn’t like him. Or even better, come up with a medical excuse on why he was staring at the straight V of muscles that disappeared into those red shorts, dusted with pale blond hair that felt- No, damn it, not again. “Speaking of sheets, I think I’ll grab one and sleep outside.”

Leonard wasn’t proud of the relief he felt at the prospect of not having to hide a morning wood in that freaking single tent. “Not that I can tell you what to do, Jim, but… why?”

Still not looking at them, Jim gestured vaguely at the area. “You know, the heat, the humidity? I feel like we’ll boil alive if we all sleep in that thing. I’ll be fine. Maybe the lemur will come down again and I’ll get my comm back. And I know you guys must want some privacy. I mean, you must want- yes. Privacy. It’s the best choice. I like camping, I’ll be fine. It’s not like it gets cold at night.”

“Scans showed the temperature of this region to be quite stable.”

“Perfect,” Jim said, smiling but looking anywhere but in their direction. “I’ll set up.”

They finished building up the scanning equipment slowly, following Spock’s words to the letter. He still checked everything twice before declaring them ready to go onto each next step, but Leonard was used to it; he cooked with the man. Jim’s patience for Spock’s antics was astronomical and, as usual, he didn’t seem to mind.

The heat started giving off halfway through. As soon as it was cool enough to wear their undershirts again - and trousers, in Jim’s case - the air felt lighter. Jim stopped fumbling too, which was a plus. Leonard had been ready to put him on mandatory rest for heat stroke. 

When they sat down to eat their macrobars, the temperature was almost pleasant. Maybe still too hot for boots, but nobody was taking those off. 

Jim bitched about the bars, but he shut up when Spock found them a pink fruit that tasted like a mix of mangos and strawberries, and was very happy to help picking more. 

“I’ll bring one up so Nyota can taste it, she’ll regret not coming down. Just one. To make her mad.”

“We cannot bring anything back to Enterprise that is not a sample, Jim.”

“It’s a sample. Like, a sample of what she’s missing.”

“We will only beam up samples that can fit in a 767 tube.”

“You’re no fun.”

“You know what’s no fun? Diseases spreading in a closed tin floating in space because you wanted to bring up a fruit.”

“A fruit to mess with my mutinous third officer!”

“The answer remains no, Jim.”

“Did we forget who’s the captain here? I could make it an order and you’d all just have to shush.”

“Very well. Be aware, Captain, that my report will include your infraction in thorough detailing.”

Jim hummed, thoughtful. “I’ll think about it.”

When they were ready to settle to sleep, the sun had set completely, and the brilliance of the trees' resin had changed colours to various hues of blue. It looked like an entirely different place. Sounded like one, too, the rustlings had turned to scratches, the flutters to caws, and everything was slowly getting on Leonard’s nerves. 

Jim’s body, alone and vulnerable in the middle of it all, raised Leonard’s hackles a little, and he had to remind himself that the place was innocuous, that Jim was an adult, a way better trained officer than he was, and a freaking waterproof layer of tech cloth wasn’t that much of a protection anyway. He still felt guilty, both about leaving him outside alone and about having been too much of a coward to fight him on it. 

Zipping the entrance closed behind him was still a relief. 

The tent didn’t attenuate the noise one bit. Spock was lying down with his eyes closed, fingers intertwined on his stomach, looking lovely and thoroughly relaxed while Leonard was already one caw-caw away from setting the whole place on fire. 

“ _K’diwa_ ,” Spock called softly, his eyes still closed, one of his hands now pulling Leo down to his side. Leonard went, resting his cheek on Spock’s shoulder and letting him keep his hand, knowing that physical comfort outside of their rooms was rare from him, and yet unable to loosen enough to appreciate it fully. “You require rest.”

“You know just as well as I do that it won’t happen.”

“You have not been sleeping the recommended number of hours for the past fourteen days. You cannot afford to lose sleep on an away mission.” Spock paused, because they both knew what he was about to offer, and Leonard didn’t like talking about it. “Allow me to help.”

Leonard sighed, and sighed deeper when Spock kissed his forehead, deflating.

The thing was, telepathy-induced sleep worked great. Way better than pills or hypos, way better than hypnosis, way better than neuropressure or whatever it was Spock started to do on his back when he was tense and got them both so hot and bothered it ended up in sex after less than five minutes. To that day, Leonard still didn’t know how a Vulcan neuropressure session put you to sleep. 

It was great, the telepathy. No headaches, no pains, no sore limbs, no feeling of drowning, no impairment of driving abilities. It worked as well as the telepath’s mind could manage, and Spock was a great telepath, so it worked always, even when you felt like you couldn’t breathe, even when you felt like you were disintegrating, even when you couldn’t stop screaming, even when you felt like the wrongness of the universe was crawling under your skin.

Even when, basically, he’d been fresh from seeing Jim’s dead body. Even when he’d had to look at it every day, Khan’s stem cells slowly bringing him up and over the brink, his vitals, his brainwaves, his heart looking dead and done, every instinct deeply ingrained in his brain from medschool and residency and consultancy and Starfleet Academy and Bioethics 101 screaming at him to just stop. To pull the plug, because he was just bringing a corpse along for the ride and Jim’s remains deserved better, deserved to go back into space, be turned into dust and disappear in a nebula, one they would have to choose, one they had to be sure would have made his eyes sparkle.

So Leonard had worked on Jim, on his desperation, on the bone deep need to sink in alcohol, and every night he had come back to their apartment in San Francisco, the one that Spock’s father had left them and had nothing of Leonard and nothing of Spock, the one that was sterile and unliveable, and he had cried into his dinner, seated so close to Spock he didn’t know where he began and Spock ended, tasting only the salt of his tears and the sharpness of their grief.

And then Spock would bring him to the shower, to the sink, and to the bed. He would curl around him, so hot, scalding hot when Jim’s skin had still been so cold, too cold, and he would place his fingers on Leonard’s face and lull him asleep.

The slumber had been good. It had felt almost normal. 

Almost.

It was feathery, the difference. Almost intangible. It had a slight thickness to it. Those weeks, Leonard hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t noticed anything that wasn’t Spock’s safe, stable warmth and Jim’s vitals. 

And then Jim had woken up. And Leonard hadn’t needed it anymore, he’d slept for weeks, going down the moment his head touched the pillow.

And so time had passed. Therapy and tears and sobs in the shower, conversations in the dark and brushes of fingers on the bridge, the brilliance and arrogance of Jim’s smiles, all had healed them. Had made them forget.

Then one night, after an unfortunate encounter between a green ensign and a place where he wasn’t supposed to be, Leonard had come back from sickbay smelling blood and burnt flesh on skin he’d washed seven times already, with water and sonic and even Cardassian scrubbing sand, the images of all those burnt people printed on his retinas.

And Spock had pulled him to bed and held him close, and after two hours of feeling him watch unblinkingly into the darkness, he’d asked that same thing. Allow me to help.

And Leonard, Leonard hadn’t remembered that there was that feathery thickness, that small difference between physiological sleep and telepathically induced. And so he’d said yes.

He hadn’t remembered, not rationally. But in the morning, before the alarm could go off, he’d recognised it. And he’d woken up screaming, gasping, struggling to breathe, because waking up like that, with that feathery thickness, that flimsy heaviness, meant that Jim was still dead.

Spock had knocked him out because nothing had made him uncoil, nothing had made him stop from choking on his own breaths. He’d knocked him out and he’d placed him on the bed and he’d called Jim for chess even if alpha shift had been starting in a minute, and only waking up with Jim’s warm laugher and that impossible cheer Jim always carried no matter the ungodly hour of the morning, only that had made him calm down. Had made him inhale and exhale.

“I don’t know,” Leonard said, and his breath shuttered when Spock passed his hand down his spine, humming. 

“He is close.”

“I know.”

“It is highly likely he will wake you up himself.”

“You’ve been waiting to try again here since we got cornered into the mission, haven’t you?”

“It is a unique opportunity to overcome PTSD you refuse to bring to therapy, Leonard.”

“Let’s not open that door.”

“No,” Spock said, “let us not. Will you allow me?”

“…no. No, Spock, sorry, not… not here. Not when he could see. I don’t want to put this on his shoulders too.”

Spock sighed, his hand moving from his spine to the back of Leonard’s head, gently scratching between the short hair of his nape. “I will stay awake with you.”

“You don’t need to, hun.”

“I am rested enough to function at high efficiency for at least five days.”

“Show off.”

⚭

Leonard did not settle to sleep, though he ceased squirming at every noise and brush, seemingly content to lie in Spock’s arms, breathing in synchrony with the movement of Spock’s fingers. 

Spock was always awake hours before Leonard. He required four, maximum five hours of sleep per night, and though Leonard’s sleep was heavy enough that exiting the bed did not wake him, leaving him alone felt… wrong. Therefore, he had learned to keep his PADD on his nightstand, as well as his COMM, so he could read or ask for laboratory updates as he waited, cherishing his bondmate’s proximity and warmth.

More often, though, and steadily increasing, Spock spent those hours with his eyes closed, mind on the edge of meditation, his fingers moving softly just as they were in that moment, gently scraping over Leonard’s nape.

Leonard had told him once that he could feel it in his dreams as a pleasurable weight, and both when he was awake or asleep, it was one of his most relaxing caresses. It was the only caress Leonard allowed when images from sickbay or plague-infested planets kept him awake at night, eyes wide and unseeing. It was the one caress Spock always gave him after sexual congress, and when he did not, Leonard pulled his hand in place for him.

Spock did not mind. The feel of it, the warm give of Leonard’s skin and the soft brush of his short hair, was a soothing combination to his fingertips, one that made shivers travel up and down his forearm. On nights like these, when Leonard was alert, Leonard’s psyche brushed his in small slips of thoughts and impressions. Spock was therefore gifted with Leonard’s satisfaction at feeling Spock’s warm chest beneath his cheek, his enjoyment of the caress of his fingers, the brush of his trousers against his shin as he hooked a leg above Spock’s and settled more firmly against his side. The intimacy that overwhelmed him whenever he felt Spock’s heart beating against his skin.

They would not sleep, no, yet this could be relaxing enough.

Leonard sighed, loosened his muscles further, and his hand moved from Spock’s sternum, brushing skin over cloth, moving sideways until his thumb traced the spot where Spock’s ribs had cracked under the blow of a Klingon.

He moved again, up to Spock’s shoulder, finding the place where his hands had cut skin, muscle and fascia to reach his shuttered shoulder and replace the joint with a prosthesis of his making. 

This too was common between them, just as common as Leonard’s eyes skimming all the places where he had sewn Jim’s skin back together. It was instinctive, mostly unintentional, Leonard’s brain never outright thinking of doing it, though still checking, ensuring he had fixed them, even in his sleep.

Leonard’s hand was slowly moving down to Spock’s thigh, to the place where a Romulan phaser had burned his flesh away, when the first scream came, covering all the noises of the woods. 

They froze. 

Then they heard the distinctive sound of Jim jumping up and moving, and Leonard cursed.

“Jim, don’t you dare go alone!” he screamed, hurrying up and opening the tent entrance just enough to pass. Spock followed swiftly, internally calculating that the chance of the Captain having listened and not recklessly jumped in a chase as he was prone to-

“You heard that, right?” Jim said, upright and shivering but still miraculously there and unharmed, his breath puffing white clouds of steam in the air. “It sounded humanoid, I didn’t imagine it, right?”

“Holy hell,” Leonard said, forcefully rubbing at his arms, “when the hell did it get so cold here?”

The temperature change must have been of at least twenty degrees. The tent was made of thermal tech cloth, and reading the complaints listed by all Starfleet individuals who had used the model on away missions, it was seemingly very effective in keeping out the cold in below zero scenarios, absolutely useless in keeping out the warmth above thirty degrees Celsius. Spock’s own review was going to include much the same concept when they were beamed back aboard. 

“Jim,” Leonard said, his tone dangerous, “were you seriously going to sleep outside in this cold and not come in the tent?”

“Yeah,” Jim said, dressed in full uniform and still shivering, “I mean, it wasn’t so bad on the ground. It’s warmish.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jim! Are you trying to fall ill and-“

Another scream pierced the air, distracting Leonard and Jim from their impending argument and focusing them back to the current issue. Spock turned, watching the two trees that separated them from the direction in which the scream had come from. 

“I could have sworn,” Jim said, “that the first one came from the opposite direction.”

“I had the same impression, Captain.”

“Okay,” Jim said, “okay. I really think I’m going to regret this idea, but we should all go check it out together. We’re not splitting up until we make sure what’s going on.”

“What about the lemurs?”

Jim exhaled, looking around with distant eyes. Thinking, Spock knew. Strategising. “The spare equipment we couldn’t secure is in the tent, we’ll close it up and hope for the best. They shouldn’t have ever seen one, right? With some luck it will take them more time to open it than for us to come back. We’ll take the backpacks with all the food, the bottles, the PADDs, the COMMs, and the emergency MedBag. Phasers on stun.”

Leonard nodded, walked to collect the MedBag first. “Which one do you want to follow, Jim?”

“Spock?” Jim asked, “Suggestions?”

“The second one appeared to be closer in distance, Sir, although it might have been because I heard the first one from inside the tent. I unfortunately do not know its coefficient for noise distortion, though I do not believe it to be consistent enough to alter distance perception significantly.“

“How about the coefficient’s zero? Those freaking lemurs sounded just as wild from inside.”

“It doesn’t matter, I had the same impression, I think. I defer to your judgement, Spock. You’ve got the direction already narrowed down to the degree, don’t you?” Spock nodded. “Okay, then take point. Bones, you’re in the middle. Two minutes for the backpacks and we go.”

The blue hue of the resin made their walk easy. Spock brought them around the trees and back to the right direction, walking carefully, phaser raised. 

The planet had appeared uninhabited by any sentient life. He had overseen the scans and the results himself. If a sentient species indeed lived there, they had technology that surpassed Starfleet’s, and might not welcome strangers beaming down on their planet unrequested. Nevertheless, they had been there for sixteen hours, forty three minutes and twenty seven seconds. Their appearance could not have possibly gone unnoticed, not when the supposed inhabitant’s shielding technology had been so advanced to trick the Enterprise’s sensors. It was further unlikely considering how close the screams had sounded. 

They were halfway the distance Spock had approximated with his calculations when another scream came, this time on their left. They all stopped. 

Jim took point, his fist up and closed, signalling them to stall. He breathed once, twice, his eyes locked on the new direction, and eventually opened his hand to signal they would continue following their original way. 

Wise.

Jim gestured for silence, kept his phaser pointed to the left as Spock and Leonard walked past him, and stayed, making Spock acutely aware of every step that was gradually distancing them. No suspicious movement came, and after ten seconds, Spock heard Jim’s steps catching up and falling in.

When they reached the area he had pinpointed the noise had come from, nothing was there. 

Jim moved forward again, signalled _tricorder_ and _cover_ with his hand and waited for Spock to scan the area, Jim’s phaser still high, pointing into the woods in the opposite direction of Leonard’s. The chirping waves of the scanner felt louder than they were, though Spock doubted they could be picked up in the middle of the rustlings of the animals, not at a distance superior than the one of their field of vision, which was devoid of anything but plants or insects.

Spock checked twice before turning and signalling to them that the scanner had picked up no lifeforms different than the ones registered in their camp.

Jim frowned and took a step forward, looking up and around, and jumped and whirled and pointed his phaser up the instant another scream pierced the air, this time clearly above them. 

Breathing hard, he waited, tense, focused, until another scream came, above them again, but two meters back from where they’d come from. Leonard pointed, but nothing was there yet again.

Another came. And another, and another, falling behind the precedent like a waterfall, multiplying until the noise was making them all wince. 

“What the-“ Leonard started when a bird, the size of a Vulcan eagle and coloured all in green, swooped down towards their heads, opening its beak and emitting the same scream that had called them there. They all ducked and the animal did nothing more than ruffle their hair with the force of the air its wings had moved. “I can’t- Am I hallucinating?”

“ _Birds_?” Jim asked, not lowering his phaser and looking frantically around, moving his head at each screech in an unsuccessful attempt to pinpoint them. “Seriously? Can this place get any weirder?”

“Are they aggressive?” Leonard asked, and another bird flew down emitting the noise, and they had to duck lower to avoid it. 

“It appears we are in one of the spaces where they nested in the trees,” Spock said, “the amount of eggs containing their molecular compatibility all around us suggests they are protecting them from us.”

“Great,” Leonard said, pocketing his phaser, “then I vote we skedaddle.”

“Agreed,” Jim said, “Spock, take us back to camp before their claws get us.”

Moving away proved to be a strategic error. In their retreat, they walked through a more densely nested group of trees where the parents had just woken up, and before Spock could change direction, a bird flew down and clawed his arm, causing five superficial but significant cuts.

“Run!!” the Captain ordered, “Run, run, run, let's go!!”

More birds followed the first, and Spock ran under them, feeling them scratch at his head and arms, hearing Leonard and Jim curse and exclaim in pain behind him, their steps firm and rhythmical enough that he never felt the need to turn. 

Fifty-three meters brought them to relative calm, only to go through another nesting site twelve meters ahead, and being forced to run again.

When they reached the encampment they had made, Leonard was breathing hard, Jim was emitting a steady flow of curses, and Spock himself could not help but feel threatened at every screech that came in the distance, getting closer as a circular wave, slowly surrounding their encampment. None sounded closer than ten meters from its border, though there might be individuals still awakening.

“Oh, fuck.”

Spock turned and, for the first time in their relationship, agreed silently with Leonard’s statement. 

Their tent was in ruins. The electromagnetic scanning equipment was partially dismantled, scratched and lying on the ground fifty degrees more horizontally than Spock had set it to. The objects they had tied to the trees, the umbrellas, the scanners, the cameras, and the perimeter sticks for the force field were all gone, one by one.

They had been robbed of at least one hundred and fifty seven pieces of equipment, and that was just the rough count he had estimated at first sight.

Leonard kneeled close to the broken remains of the blue tent, raising them to check if anything had been left underneath, especially, Spock believed, the secondary med kit that held the hypos for any allergic reactions Jim might have.

His face, when he turned to look at him, was a clear no.

“Okay,” Jim said, “okay, this calls for comming up. We’ll ask for a sturdier tent, thermal clothes for the cold, new perimeter fields, and… Spock, can you give me a count of the equipment you need replaced in, say, ten minutes?”

“I believe I can list the ones we need right now immediately, Sir. The rest can wait until morning.”

“Tell me everything now,” the Captain said, “I don’t think any one of us is going to sleep tonight.”

“Very well.”

“Bones, your communicator? Thank you.” Spock started circling the trees where he had placed solar dust detectors and added each missing one to the count. “Kirk to Enterprise.”

Spock took three more steps before stopping, turning to stare at Jim and the static that was coming out of the communicator.

“Kirk to Enterprise; Enterprise, do you copy?”

Static. 

Leonard had stood up, and his agitation was filling the bond. “Oh hell no,” he said, “we’re not stranded here. We’re absolutely not-“

“ _Kirk to Enterprise_ ,” Jim repeated, his voice laden with an edge of frustration, “ _please copy_.”

Static. 

“Spock,” Jim asked, anticipating his own idea, “do we have a functioning portable telescope?”

“I have one in my backpack, Sir.”

Jim nodded, his face a mask of impassiveness, but he placed a steading hand on Leonard’s leg as he crouched down and frowned at the remains of the tent, making it stop bouncing. “You know what to do.”

Spock found it quickly, set it to the right range and walked back the way they had come from after the beam down, where he knew two trees did not link their branches for seventy five centimetres, offering a clear cleft of the sky. The screams were close, two meters close when he reached the place, though no bird attacked.

Calculating where to point was quick, quicker than raising his hands to watch through the device’s viewing hole. 

Nothing. 

He had never miscalculated so significantly in his life, though he tried again, going through each mathematical line carefully. He had been right. The Enterprise should be orbiting in their field of sky vision, in the direction offered by the opening in the branches.

He looked again, looked around the calculated place, wider than mathematically possible. 

Jim’s hand on his shoulder startled him. 

“Come back to camp, Spock,” he said, his voice heavy and tired, but infinitely kind, “we don’t know if there are nests close by.”

They were stranded.

⚭

 _Forty minutes earlier_.

“Sir? We lost contact with the planet.”

Nyota knew she shouldn’t. She’d chosen Emma herself, she’d been training her for years, she was almost as good as her and Jim kept telling her that she’d be Captain one day, with the capital C, and it wouldn’t be nice to keep walking to the Comm station to check over her Communication Officer’s work, even if she knew in her bones she could do better. 

Her skin itched all over, but she forced herself to stay seated and turn to Emma and ask, “Lost contact?”

“Not just with the planet,” the Ensign said, pressing the earCOMM down in her ear channel and frowning, the fingers of her other hand flying over her station, “all the comms are down, ship wide.”

“What?” Nyota stood up before she could stop herself. “Are you sure?”

She met Emma’s eyes, and Emma swallowed, eyes firm but slowly tinging with doubt. “Maybe you should check, Sir.”

Nyota sighed. This was exactly what Jim told her not to do, to make her crew think she didn’t trust them. “No,” she said, “no, Ryce, I’m sure you’re right. Try rerouting the system through the emergency lines.”

“Tried and failed, Sir. I also tried to use the portable communicators, but no one responded.”

Nyota took a breath, then two, meeting Pavel’s confused eyes when he turned to look at her, then meeting Sulu’s, who had finished his captaincy training and was the best candidate to handle the situation. As if reading her mind, he smiled gently, and asked, “Orders, Sir?”

Nyota sat back down, uncrossed her legs and took her elbow away from the arm rest when she realised she’d been mirroring Jim, then placing them back where they were when sitting straight felt too uncomfortable. 

“Sir, an unidentified vessel just appeared outside of the planet’s atmosphere, two thousand kilometres from us.”

“Appeared, Chekov?”

“ _Da_ , Sir, they did not drop out of warp, they just… appeared. No subspace tracing anywhere around them.”

“Shields up, just in case,” Nyota said, “Ensign Ryce, try anything you can think of to COMM the landing party.”

“Aye, Sir, trying, but… we’re literally blocked. Any system we free up gets clogged with static and closes up in less than ten seconds.”

“They’re scanning us,” Sulu said.

“Let them, we have nothing to hide.”

“They are arming weapons!”

“Yellow alert. Ryce, I need something, we won’t go into battle without trying to hail them.”

“They’re hailing _us_ , Sir. The… hailing frequencies just cleared, only in the bands they’re using. I think they’re the ones who shut down our comms.”

“Red alert. Sulu, get ready for evasive manoeuvres. Ryce, on screen.”

“I have only audio, Sir.”

“Try and push our video.” 

Nyota waited for her nod before she stood up, her hands behind her back. 

Jim made this look easy; she’d never felt so small. She breathed, straightened her spine and smiled. “Hello, I am Lieutenant Commander Uhura, Acting Captain of the USS Enterprise. We are an exploratory Starfleet vessel from the United Federation of Planets, our mission is pacific, to explore and travel, seek out new worlds and new civilisations. We’re happy to make your acquaintance and we mean you no harm.”

Silence. Nyota waited ten seconds before turning to Emma. She shook her head.

Nyota pursed her lips. “We’re here for purely scientific reasons. The planet we’re orbiting is hosting three members of our crew, they are studying it in an attempt to understand more of the vibrant life shown in the scans and find a possible cure for an illness plaguing one of the Federation’s systems. There is no need to charge weapons. If we’re unwelcome, we will collect our crew and leave immediately, apologising for trespassing.”

Silence again. Nyota exhaled, straightened her back more, scrambled her brain for any words she remembered from Jim when he’d been in her same situation uncountable times before, making it look like a walk in the park. 

“Sir,” Sulu said, an edge to his voice Nyota didn’t like, “something’s wrong, I can’t-“

“They are jamming us!”

Emma screamed, her earCOMM dropped to the ground as the bridge filled with loud, crackling static, making them all wince and cover their ears. 

_LEAVE_ , the ship’s computer suddenly started, the volume on max, striking and deafening, _LEAVE, LEAVE, LEAVE._

“Ryce, what the hell is happening to the ship?!”

“I don’t know, Sir, I can’t control anything!”

“They’re charging weapons!”

“Evasive manoeuvres, Mr. Sulu!”

“I’m stuck!”

The hit came, shaking the whole ship, making Nyota and three other officers come down.

“Status report!”

“Shields down to fifty five percent!”

“Comms down!”

“Thrusters not responding!”

“They’re charging weapons again!”

“Ryce, get them back on the COMM!”

“I can’t access anything, Sir!”

“Brace!” Chekov screamed, and the ship shook again. “Shields down to twelve percent, Sir, we can not take another hit!”

Nyota closed her eyes, counted her heartbeats and shut out the noise, the red blazing lights, the voices. She opened them. “Sulu, prepare to jump, warp seven, directly from where we came from.”

Sulu turned, stared at her with wide eyes. 

“They’re charging weapons again!”

“Sulu, go! Now!”

“Five seconds from impact!”

“Warp seven,” Sulu said, frantic, “punching it.”

Watching the planet disappear shook her more than the hits to the ship. 

The memory of Jim’s soft voice came whispering in her ear, the gentle one from when she’d woken up in MedBay five months before, the weight of having disobeyed direct orders just for her nowhere on his smiling face. _We’re family, family means nobody gets left behind, Ny_.

 _I’m sorry_ , she thought. _I’m so sorry_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this one -- I mean, I had a lot of fun writing every chapter, but this one had lived in my head for weeks when it was finally time to write it down (mostly for the lemur, lol). I hope you liked it too!
> 
> Screaming is encouraged, especially at me :)


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to the people who commented -- thank you, you make me so happy, I hope my story gives you half the joy that your feedback gives me <3

They didn’t have adrenaline hypos anymore. They had one, the emergency one, with one single dose. Leonard didn’t realise how scared he was until he found himself slapping a fruit out of Jim’s hand one centimetre from his open mouth.

Jim turned, eyebrow raised, lips still open. “I had three of these before, Bones,” he reminded him, gentle, lowering his arm and turning slowly. “I talked about bringing it up to the Enterprise, remember?” He bent down, picked up the fruit, squeezed it until the red juice came flowing out, staining his skin. “See? Doesn’t itch, doesn’t give me a rash.”

Leonard breathed. Counted to ten. Stared at Jim’s skin, waiting for it to blow up red and ugly. It didn’t.

“I’m being careful, Bones. I really am, I promise.”

“Don’t eat anything I don’t scan first.”

Jim sighed and Leonard opened his mouth, ready to fight him tooth and nail on it, but Jim just nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

“Jim, I mean it.”

“I know you do. I won’t touch anything before you tell me you’re one hundred percent sure I can.”

He’d never be one hundred percent sure. He could scan it, put a sample in the sequencer, he could touch it to Jim’s hand and check if it started a reaction, and Jim could still eat it and die suffocated by his own larynx. He had one hypo and they could be stuck there for months.

Hell, they could be stuck there for years, like that poor bastard serving on the Farragut who’d been left on Gamma Vega for seven years, the one they’d found wandering around naked with flowers in his hair and a necklace of alien roots, saying that he could speak with the trees.

Leonard didn’t want to speak with the trees — or worse, the lemurs — and was pretty upset when Jim stopped COMMing up after seven hours. He got it, though. Preserve battery life and all.

He could say with one hundred percent certainty that their first night there had been the most miserable of his entire life. He’d been shaking from the cold the whole time, his fingers numb and his feet tingling from it, working to pick up the pieces of the destroyed equipment they could still try using. He’d been surrounded by screeches that sounded like screams while pondering Jim’s chances at survival – pondering how his best friend, the man he was in love with, was now hanging by a thread. Anything from a blooming flower to lemur spit to bird poop could get in his nose or on the food or fall in the water and kill him in minutes.

Leonard could only save him one time, one single time, and his mind kept replaying that dinner at the Blohour embassy, reminding him that he’d scanned the food three times and nothing had come up and Jim had _still_ gone into anaphylactic shock twice. _Twice_. And now? Now they were stuck in that hell hole of a jungle and Leonard only had one adrenaline hypo and a fraction of his usual patience.

When they’d beamed down the day before, the forest had seemed so loud from the rustlings and flutterings, making him feel short of murderous just in time for bed. That morning, when the birds stopped partying and the screams died down, Leonard could barely hear anything over the pounding in his ears. It almost felt like silence. And he was tired, so fucking tired.

The temperature started rising before the sun came up, making that small wrinkle appear on Spock’s forehead, the one that meant he was taking whatever scientific issue he couldn’t crack very personally; his log would be filled with words like ‘implausibly illogical’ and ‘highly dissatisfactory’ and if they’d been aboard the ship he’d have carved a hole by tapping his fingers against his desk.

Leonard was only a medical doctor but he wasn’t an idiot. He got that it was a weird climate cycle and he was very much creeped out by the number of things the ship’s scanners hadn’t picked up. Still, he was content to attribute it to voodoo, fairies, magic, or whatever mumbo-jumbo kids were into those days, as long as they could fix something up and not freeze their asses off again. Maybe even catch eight hours of sleep - or twenty. Were it the trees, the moss, the resin, or even the goddamn birds that had caused the irregularities, he didn’t really care. He never wanted to spend a night like that ever again.

They had a few minutes of mild darkness when the blue hue of the resin started dying out, the sun not yet risen completely and the fireflies mostly still hidden. Jim and Leonard spent it sitting side by side against the trunk of a tree, eyeing the miserable heap of broken equipment and folded shreds of tent they’d gathered. The stuff would have to keep them alive for the Lord knew how long, provided they could repair part of it.

Spock spent the dawn staring accusingly at the resin and his tricorder, as if he could make them explain — if only he glared severely enough — why it had lit up and then died down perfectly following the circadian rhythm. Jim kept eying him in worry, but he’d stayed sitting after Leonard had placed a hand on his bouncing leg to keep him from reaching out to Spock. He'd leaned his head against Leo’s shoulder, sighing.

Leonard had to put all of his remaining strength into stopping himself from reaching out, entwining his hand with Jim’s on the ground, rubbing their fingers together in the way that always calmed Spock down. He didn’t even know if Jim knew the meaning of the gesture, its importance. Maybe he could just do it and Jim would accept it as a platonic thing, unaware of the significance.

Jim had never been one to refuse contact, ever. He was tactile, he was affectionate, and Leonard had always pretended he just put up with Jim’s hugs and the hands on his shoulders and waist, but he’d actually liked them from the start. He’d liked _Jim_ from the start, which had been a freaking punch to the gut, because before Jim, before Starfleet, Leonard hadn’t really liked anyone since his divorce.

“Bones?”

“Hmh?”

“I’m glad I’m here with you. I know you didn’t want to come, and after the… the, uhm, thing we did, I guess we all needed some space. I’m not happy I got you both stuck here with me, of course, I just… I’m glad you’re the ones with me. It’s probably inconsiderate as hell — I know this is your nightmare — but I am.”

Leonard reached out for Jim’s hand before he could think. “Jim,” he said urgently, “I’d take being stuck here with you a thousand times over being on the Enterprise, knowing you’re stranded far away and that we can’t come get you. Last night was hell and we’re on the weirdest damn planet of the entire quadrant, but being up there and knowing you were here without being able to tell if you’re hurt, if you’re fine, I- No. That would have been a worse nightmare — _the_ worst.” He squeezed the palm under his fingers, held on when Jim squeezed back.

When the sun rays started shining through the leaves, the resin had somehow disappeared. Spock turned to them, a lecture on biochemistry and xenomycology and whatever other passable scientific method he’d used to get to the conclusion that _this planet was batshit crazy,_ surely ready to go for the _highly logical_ kill, mouth already open to deliver. He snapped it close with an undignified clank, his eyes burning holes into their entwined hands, frozen in surprise. Leonard was about to speak to snap him out of it before Jim noticed when Jim bolted away, making Leonard almost fall on the ground when his weight came off.

“The hell, Jim? You got bitten or something?”

Jim swallowed, eyes intense as he looked between Spock and Leonard. “Yeah, sorry,” he said, “something stung my side.”

“Damn it, Jim, move and let me check before you go into shock!”

“Sure,” Jim said, distracted, still looking at Spock weirdly. Leonard’s sleep deprivation must be making him paranoid because he could swear he looked almost fearful, as if he believed Spock was gonna hit him or something. He didn’t even flinch or complain when Leonard raised the hem of his jacket and shirt to check.

“Jim!” Leonard said, clapping his hands in front of Jim’s face to catch his attention. “Where does it hurt?”

“Oh,” Jim said, snapping out of whatever had kept him in trance, turning his head and pointing. “It doesn’t. Uhm, here.”

He had the acute feeling that Jim had pointed at random, but Leonard still checked and scanned and probed long enough that Jim started fidgeting and huffing, and eventually moved away.

“I’m fine, Bones! Nothing’s there; you checked!”

“You said you got stung, you idiot! Let me at least find the place!”

“I must have imagined it, okay? Chill!”

“Don’t tell me to chill, you infant! You’re not getting out of my sight for the next twelve hours, doctor’s orders, don’t even try and question me!”

“Fine, just quit it!”

“Fine!!”

“If I may interject, it would be wise to refurbish our water supplies and eat.”

When they finished arguing about who should go and who should stay, the cold had disappeared, leaving the jungle warm enough to open their jackets. It was pretty freaky, feeling on their skin how quickly the temperature could change and all, and Spock’s expression when he came back with their full flasks told him that he was another anomaly away from a six hour long meditation session, one of the good ones, where he looked like he was stoned and the only way to wake him up was slapping the hell out of his face.

Jim counted their macrobars and got Spock to sit down and help him plan a sustainable meal plan for the long run, including all the fruits they could eat. It was sneaky clever, actually, because math usually calmed Spock down, and Leonard should be grateful Jim was handling the situation before it could even think of escalating, but watching them pack up ratios for fourteen days made him fidgety, vaguely aware of flowers and root necklaces and trees-speaking, so he started scanning plants at random. If everything was as the tricorder read, none of the fruits and edible roots should kill Jim apart from some yellow berries that hung lined between the creepers of some the trunks, which had nutrients none of them had ever had before. Leonard wasn’t going to risk it, especially with Jim’s abysmal luck with away missions, food, and life in general.

When they sat down to eat, it was insufferably warm again, divesting-of-clothing warm, and maybe the universe had taken some pity on him, because apparently the lemurs had stolen Jim’s shorts too, so Jim kept his trousers on and stayed shirtless like them.

“Since we can no longer sleep inside a tent, I suggest we invert our sleep cycles. The cold and the noise are not ideal sleeping conditions.”

“You say we sleep during the day and we work during the night to collect food and build a shelter?”

“Precisely, Captain. It would grant us more rest.”

Jim nodded, bit the last piece of macro bar ration and grimaced. “Probably wise, yes. What if we need something that’s outside of reach, though? The birds made it clear they don’t like us.”

“We will collect it in the morning, after they have settled, or the afternoon, before they are at risk of awakening. I believe anything we might need in case of emergency is here.”

“How much range do we have at night?” Zero, Leonard would say, because they were all still scratched up and kinda bloody since he hadn’t wanted to risk the regenerator’s power with something non life-threatening, and the idea of venturing out of their safe space and walking closer to those damn freaky screams made the hair of his arms stand up and bad memories resurface.

Spock took Leonard’s hand, passed his fingers over Leo’s palm soothingly. Jim dropped his flask.

“Jesus, Jim, what the hell’s up with you?”

“Lemur again,” Jim said quickly, looking down, cheeks strawberry red.

“The closest screeches were ten point two meters away. To ensure we do not trigger an attack, I suggest remaining within a five metres radius.”

“How far out were we yesterday with the telescope? They sounded closer than that.”

“Six point seven-three.”

“Okay. I say we do four meters max for now, while we don’t need to get far.”

“Your orders for the rest of the day, Jim?”

Jim looked down at his hands, at the scratches on his arms and the red mud on his trousers. Even muddy, sweaty, and exhausted, he was still strikingly pretty and held all of his command. “We should sleep. I honestly don’t know how we can keep that stuff safe from the lemurs, but we need to sleep. We’re all too tired to take turns and it doesn’t make sense to anyway – we’re not in danger.”

“I believe these objects are in our possession because the animals did not care for them. It is likely they will be equally uninterested now.”

When Nyota had told him in sickbay that Spock tended to jump to conclusions, Leonard had felt rightfully offended in his stead, but he hadn’t argued. Spock did tend to jump to conclusions and most of the time he was right, because he was a genius and used logic constructively and all that Vulcan mojo stuff. The fact was, Spock was almost always right, but the times he wasn’t, he was thoroughly, utterly wrong.

Leonard and Jim would have probably seen it, had they not been hungry, drained, and stressed. One of them would have said, _'You know what, Spock, maybe risking the miserable pile of stuff we have left on your perceived understanding of the lemurs’ interest might not be that bright of an idea, so we won’t go with that, sorry, but cheers for the effort.'_

Thing was, both of them were too relieved to have one damn less thing to think about, so they just nodded and got the scraps of tent cloth open and spread on the ground and sprawled on them. Even if Leonard had a bad feeling lurking somewhere deep in his mind — and Jim must, too — he told himself he was being an idiot and things would be fine. Because obviously they’d been going so fine for the whole mission and their expectations had been perfectly met in every way, so that wasn’t a complete dumbass thing to think at all.

Jim was snoring softly ten seconds after his head had hit the ground; Leonard, for once in his life, followed suit after hugging the emergency med bag to his chest. Spock must have dropped too — and pretty deeply — because none of them woke up when the lemurs climbed down to steal all the fruits they’d picked, nor any of them woke up when they somehow got the rest of their carbon polymer and metal, even the big pieces, the ones Jim and Leo had struggled to carry alone without Spock’s help, the ones they had figured nobody else would move, let alone those miniature cursed beasts from hell that Jim had decided to call lemurs.

When they woke up in the newly empty space and realised they’d screwed up, nobody spoke for a long, long time, just… looked around. And mentally slamming their heads against walls, he figured, because this was one hundred percent on them and their idiocy.

“You know what would be funny,” Leonard said, feeling slightly hysterical as he hugged the destroyed remains of his backpack. “If our stuff started raining on us from the trees.”

So the new list of what they had left was: two flasks, two communicators, one emergency medical kit, three phasers, the knife Jim carried in his boot because life had made him paranoid — and thanks, therapy, for not having fixed that yet —, the knife _Spock_ carried in _his_ boot because it was only logical in case he got kidnapped — Leonard was going to open that door one day, but not that day —, Leonard’s scratched tricorder, Spock’s untouched tricorder, and all of their macrobars, because apparently finding them disgusting was universal.

“That would not be humorous, _k’diwa_. I believe a number of the stolen pieces to be heavy enough to inflict mortal damage upon impact with the human cranium.”

In that moment, a bar of carbon polymer to the head to knock him the fuck out didn’t sound like such a bad scenario. Leonard played the ‘is it constructive’ game with himself and eventually decided not to say it out loud, because Spock was looking at his hands as if they had personally disappointed him for not neck-pinching him the moment he’d suggested their worst idea since beam down, and Jim had that slightly detached glaze to his eyes that meant he was going towards one of his week long existential crises where he didn’t sleep and destroyed himself in the gym while looking like a maniac the whole time.

So things were in his hands, apparently, which was uproarious because Leonard was ready to set the whole place on fire and had to play the ‘is it constructive’ game again before he persuaded himself to find something rational and professional to say.

“Alrighty, I say we get up and start working, boys. We need to fill the flasks before the birds wake up and we need to build a lean-to where we can sleep so we don’t get robbed again.” He didn’t really believe in his words and didn’t try to sound convincing — he’d actually much rather stay on the ground and drown in self pity — but he knew which buttons to push to make Jim and Spock snap out of the funk zone and drag him out with them. “Jim? Can you help me cut the branches? I’m sorry I’ve got to ask but I don’t think my back can take it after sleeping on the ground.”

“Hmh? Oh no, Bones, don’t worry, I’ll cut the branches. Stretch a little, maybe. Do you need a hand getting up?”

“No, darling, thank you. Spock, hon? Can you show me the way to the water again? My legs are killing me but I think I can make it.”

In under thirty minutes, the flasks were full and Spock and Jim were staring alternatively at three trees trying to figure out in which shape to build the structure and what lianas and creepers they’d use to entwine the ceiling and entrance.

Leonard sat on the ground and tried lighting up a fire with the branches they’d already cut off and declared useless, actually losing his mind over it, because not even phasering it to a crisp burn seemed to generate even the smallest flame, and he was forced to admit out loud what he’d known since the beginning: “The wood’s not made to light on fire, just to smoke.”

Which meant that they’d be cold every night, every day they had left there — whether it was fourteen days of hell or seven years of root braiding and speaking with trees.

Fucking hurray.

The night got pretty miserable, but Jim noticed and gave them more stuff to do than they could wrap their minds around. Between running around the opening, moving branches, and cutting lianas, he went from freezing to just being uncomfortably cold. Jim kept a steady banter between them all, screaming above the screams, trying to keep morale high. It didn’t really work, but Leonard and Spock didn’t want to disappoint him or see him sad he was failing, so they played along, and halfway through, realised it kind of helped.

The birds seemed to be closing in, but maybe it was just his paranoia and his raw nerves, because they went through the night just fine and had half a skeleton for their shelter ready when it was over, looking ugly but sturdy. They slept beneath it as soon as the heat came up and they’d eaten and drunk, just to appreciate their labour — even if it was still pretty useless.

It was small and they kept brushing against each other as they settled down, but nobody seemed to mind, and even if Spock was between them, it felt nice to have Jim sleeping so close — it felt safe. When Leonard woke up and saw Jim snoring three meters away, he pretended that it didn’t hurt to know that Jim didn’t reciprocate, even when it was completely platonic and in the middle of a freaky alien jungle. Jim had even waited for them to fall asleep to move three metres away. Spock was less discreet, he openly raised a brow and only lowered it when Leonard brushed their foreheads together to give him comfort, but Leo felt his pain sharp and real in his mind.

Jim was making boundaries clear. It was fine. It was his choice. He’d never behaved like that on away missions, ever, but maybe he was still raw from their night together.

When he finally woke up, Jim looked over and caught them staring, looking thoroughly confused and maybe a little hurt, and Leonard was quick to move and get up before Jim realised more than he already had and the weirdness increased.

Things went like that for two more days. They should have known, really — their only problem in two whole days had been lemurs stealing fruits, lemurs or whoever scratching their backpacks, and Jim moving away from them while they slept. Just too little. Too easy. The shelter had even turned out nice and sturdy, and Spock had managed to put some mud that made it dark inside, making it pretty relaxing to lie in.

When the birds broke into their clearing on the third night, Leonard wasn’t even surprised. He did scream, though, especially when they scratched too many layers of skin off his forearms, and dove inside, followed swiftly by Jim and Spock, who’d both had more presence of mind than him and had brought along all of their belongings — even the miserable remains of Leonard’s backpack.

“Shit,” Jim said, one of his legs between Spock’s and the sharp bone of his hip digging into Leonard’s back.

The birds landed on the shelter all through the night, especially when they moved to wrangle out of the mess they’d landed in when rushing inside, but didn’t break in.

Sleeping during the day was not an option anymore. They tried one more night, but the birds came fast, just after the resin started to glow, and they were forced inside the lean-to again.

They’d have to sleep at night and work during the day, with no fire, no covers, and no damn silence.

Leonard could probably count himself lucky if making root necklaces and speaking with trees was the worst thing he ended up doing.

⚭

Jim rolled out of the shelter the second the screams died down. If there were still birds in the trees around the glade and if they did attack him again, he’d take it over being closed inside with them for one more second, all of their bodies tense and too many parts touching, reminding him of memories that he’d decided he was going to lock away forever.

He got it, he did. They didn’t want him that way, not again, probably not ever, and the repetitive ambiguities of contact and brushing and touching was making them uncomfortable. He got it.

He just didn’t know how to address it. It hurt so much to know that they didn’t want him, not even platonically, but they didn’t need to sneakily move him three meters away. They could just ask, _'Hey, Jim, we're so sorry to bother you but we're uncomfortable, could you sleep a bit farther away?'_ And Jim would just say, _'Yes! Fine! Sure! No problem!'_ He would have left that night in their quarters too, if they’d just fucking asked — hurt, yes, and he’d have cried in the shower for sure, but maybe he wouldn’t have felt so dirty, so… wrong.

But no, apparently Jim was so invasive and pushy that they’d felt the need to wait for him to fall asleep and then move him away without waking him, as if he would… protest, or go back to invading their privacy the moment he opened his eyes. Even there, even in an alien jungle where their sanity was hanging by a thread and any ridge between them could mean death. Even then, they’d moved him three meters away — _three meters_! — only after he’d been unconscious. As if he couldn’t take a hint.

Jim could take a damn hint! He’d perfectly gotten the hint since ' _satisfactory_ ,' he didn’t need much else. They could just ask and not make it super weird, because if they did it like that, then Jim didn’t even know if he should say anything. The first time he’d woken up so far away, Bones had sprung to his feet with an embarrassed red flare all over his cheeks and neck, and Jim had been too hurt and too confused to say anything. And then, after he’d put two and two together and figured out what had happened, in what position he’d placed them, Bones’ embarrassment had stopped him from saying anything because… well, if just looking at each other when he woke up after they’d moved him had made Bones ashamed, as if Jim wouldn’t get it any other way and he didn’t like he had to do it that way, then what would speaking about it do?

So he’d take the birds, honestly. Especially since they now knew that they’d all have to sleep inside, no other way about it if they didn’t want to be scratched to death; he wouldn’t stay a second longer than necessary.

None of them had slept that night and even if they had slept a little the days before, the mission was proving to be more taxing than any of them could have predicted.

Peaceful planet, peaceful flora and fauna, stable temperatures and pleasant climate, the scanners had said. Jim was counting the days until the trees revealed they were wicked, too.

They were all too tense and way too sleep deprived — if Jim brought up the sleeping thing now, it could get very ugly.

Caution was written in every line of Bones’s face, as if he could read his mind. Jim turned away as Bones walked closer, stared at the branches and leaves that hid the birds, the lemurs, and the stars knew what else.

“Jim?” He sounded more exhausted than Jim felt.

“Yeah, Bones?”

“What do we do now?” He sounded lost. Looked lost, too, it was unmistakable, so Jim didn’t turn back to the trees like he’d intended when he saw just how much. He raised his hand slowly, letting Bones have time to pull away if he wanted, and placed it steadily on Bones’ shoulder.

“We’re healthy, we have food, we have water. We’ll figure it out and we’ll be home in no time, maybe we’ll find a better place in the meantime.”

They wouldn’t, probably. Jim and Spock alternated in calling up with the comms every day, in case either of them forgot a frequency — they didn’t, but it was protocol, and protocol calmed Spock down. Nothing had picked up yet, not even a non Federation ship, and they’d been transmitting on all frequencies.

They would have to work during the day. Sleep too, most likely, because there wasn’t that much work to do, just some shelter remodelling and repairs, picking fruits, filling up the flasks, and there was no way any of them was getting any shuteye at night. They were acceptably safe there, they didn’t have any data that suggested there was a place reachable within a day where the birds wouldn’t find them, and the Enterprise would start searching from their beam down location the moment Uhura managed to get it back in orbit.

It didn’t make sense to move, it didn’t make sense to do anything but think of surviving for the moment. He wondered when the shift came, if he would feel it. If a specific day would come when Jim would say that they needed to start thinking of a permanent solution, because they might have nothing to come back to, nobody to wait for.

There was a dude who was stationed on Gaila’s previous ship who’d survived seven years on Gamma Vega, and Gamma Vega was worse than this planet, whatever the Federation decided to call it.

Probably Gamma Vega II.

Jim told Spock and Bones to go on and do the usual, watched them as Bones scanned fruits four times too many and Spock went to fill their empty flasks and used the comm. Then, he told them to sleep.

They were done, there was nothing else to do but wait for the night to come and hole up inside the shelter. They put the food and backpacks inside the lean on, then lay right in front of the entrance, Bones’s shoulder and leg touching its branches.

Jim, sitting on the ground a good three metres from them, ignored their glances and whisperings and checked again that he had nothing on him that could be stolen.

When Spock woke him up, he told him it was early afternoon, and to drink water so he could fill the flasks again. Jim did, drank slowly, as Bones had taught him — “The faster it gets in, the faster it gets out, Jim!” — and then went into the jungle while Bones walked to the pool, opposite to him.

Spock had found another spring, one hundred and twenty seven metres from their camp, and they’d decided to use it to bathe. It was eerie, diving in, because the bottom seemed to stretch on forever, and the deep blue became black without letting you know whether it finished or not. It was nice, though, cool enough to offer relief from the heat but not enough to induce brain freeze or make them shiver, and the trees surrounding it let a lot of sunlight shine through.

He took everything off, dived in and scrubbed the clothes first, let them float after, careful to place the boots upright and not make them sink. It would be nicer to let them dry in the air while he bathed, but he’d been robbed enough times to know it wasn’t a smart thing to try. Wearing them damp was uncomfortable, but he’d be dry enough by the time he made it back to camp.

Jim watched the fireflies fly close, going all around his yellow undershirt, unsure about the water. He watched until they started landing and then swam away, turned on his back and closed his eyes, drifting, letting the small rays of the sun caress his skin when he caught them, enjoying their warmth.

He’d have to address it, the sleeping thing. Even if they couldn’t sleep three metres away from each other anymore, they could figure something out — put the bags between them, for example, so Spock and Bones could have some semblance of privacy. He didn’t know what they’d do to have it if he didn’t offer it before falling asleep. He doubted they’d throw him out to the birds, but he’d rather not be squashed against the branches, or covered with leaves.

He floated some more, letting his thoughts roam free. Spock must have a thousand theories on why the Enterprise had disappeared, one more logical than the other. Jim didn’t have any, because he knew Nyota and he knew his crew, and if none of them had come back for them then the ship must be in more danger than they were, and he didn’t like thinking about it, not when he could do nothing to help.

Nyota would punch him, probably. She always told him he sinned of favouritism, that he was fast-tracking her through command training because she was his friend and not because she deserved it, that he gave her missions before she was ready for them. Jim wondered how much of that was her, how much of that she believed, how much of that Christine was slowly banging — probably literally — out of her head. Because he didn’t, not really, Nyota had that kind of striking brilliance that was rare to see and she knew she had it, she knew how to use it, and Jim was doing nothing but helping her learn how to aim it right.

He was fast-tracking her, yes, but he was just accelerating the bureaucracy of what she already deserved to have. She was already better trained — better performing, even — than a lot of ‘fleet captains, starting with the Farragut, whose bar had been set so low, and yet Captain Vuolaro had managed to lower further.

Jim squinted one eye open when the rustlings started intensifying on his left, recognising the pattern, and was met with the big round eyes of a lemur. _The_ lemur, actually, even if Bones kept insisting Jim couldn’t tell them apart, Jim could swear a finger of his hand that that little imp was the one that had stolen his comm. It was the bravest of them all, the one that always appeared first.

“Hi,” Jim said slowly, opening both eyes and straightening, swimming closer to his clothes. The lemurs had never touched the water, but he’d also thought they couldn’t find a way to lift bars of carbon polymer, for all he knew they could swim better than fish. “Are you here to confess to a crime?”

The lemurs chirped, they’d learned, like hamsters or tribbles. Jim found it very cute and Bones found it very annoying, to the point of listing in which ways he’d like to roast them to have them for supper. The lemurs seemed to enjoy being barked at, so they happily chirped back, and Bones ended up sitting down and staring at the ground with one of his lower eyelids twitching — usually the left one.

The lemur chirped nonsense at Jim right then, quickly covering the distance from his tree to the edge of the water, and Jim couldn’t help but smile at it.

“What do you think, hm? Where’s my ship?”

It didn’t chirp again, but it raised on its hind legs and put its forepaws beneath his chin, just like it had on Jim’s first day before running away with its first prize.

“Yeah, I recognise you, no need to show off. I don’t have any more comms for you, little thing, you stole the only one I had. And you refused my badge deal, so I have nothing to give you.”

The lemurs were responsible for a good part of their miserable situation, but they were cute and charmingly heedless about it; Jim couldn’t stop himself from enjoying them when they weren’t up to no good yet. That one in particular seemed to be becoming more social every day, especially with him, and Jim felt halfway between a behavioural xenozoologist and a proud dad about it. Spock insisted it was an illogical detail to focus on because the lemurs hadn’t proved to be company-rewarding animals, so Jim was wasting resources over something that was merely aesthetically pleasing and otherwise unrewarding. Jim had answered that it was rewarding because it fed his ego and Bones had said that Jim already had too much of that, which, _fair_ , so the conversation had ended and Jim had given up on trying to convince them that the lemurs were cute and somewhat good company.

The little dude who was currently tilting its head at him chirped again, hesitated, then jumped closer, its nose smelling the air. Braver and braver every day.

-

Jim was less brave for the next seven days. He didn’t bring up the sleeping thing, because he couldn’t seem to find a moment when Spock wasn’t glaring at a plant and Bones wasn’t threatening Jim’s new pet to make it their dinner — Jim was pretty sure that eating only fruits was starting to affect him. Hell, he himself had started dreaming of cheeseburgers and pizzas, he couldn’t really blame him.

The perfect moment would never come, of course, not while they were stuck in an alien jungle with barely enough resources to scrape by, but Jim didn’t mind ignoring the elephant in the room, and he found that the birds screaming brought away a lot of the awkwardness from being stuffed together inside the shelter.

It was still weird being inside, of course. Bones and Spock cuddled for warmth, and logic said Jim should join, but Jim just couldn’t bring himself to invade their space. They did offer, but they sounded uncertain, tentative… unwilling, almost. So Jim just said no and learned how to shiver in silence and clench his teeth hard enough not to make them clatter. Bones called him an idiot seven times and Spock told him twice that he was being highly illogical, but neither made a move to include him in their space, so Jim got the message and stayed cold and away.

For the first few days, he managed not to sleep and just suffered through it. His resolution failed quickly, though, and Jim started falling asleep by pure exhaustion. On those nights, he woke up more than once because a branch was digging into his back, hurt and confused that they’d shove him away even there. It was fine, though — well, no, it wasn’t fine, but Jim was fine shutting up about it — because every time he noticed and opened his eyes, Spock and Bones were staring at him looking guilty, so Jim just pretended crashing against the wall had been his idea and rolled back to sleep, not a feeling in his fingers or toes nor the tip of his nose.

The seventh night, though, the elephant in the room decided to make itself known — Jim woke up because a bird had scratched the back of his hand open. They’d pushed him so far away that his arm had fallen out of the entrance, and the birds hadn’t let the opportunity pass.

He therefore spent the rest of the night thinking of fifty possible ways of delicately bringing up the matter, and eventually, in the yellow light of day and covered in far too many fireflies, he blurted out: “I think we should discuss our sleeping arrangements.”

Bones’ face turned bright red and, for a single moment, Jim regretted saying anything — only to quickly realise Bones was going red with outrage, not embarrassment. “Really, Jim? You _think_? Wanna know what I think? I think you’re being an idiot!”

Jim didn’t bring it up again.

When Spock approached him later that day to _discuss matters in logical terms_ , Jim ordered him to shut up and pulled rank. He didn’t need pity cuddles. He was fine. If he woke up freezing and rigid from the cold, he just walked it off until his legs and arms stopped tingling.

He was fine.

More days passed by, all the same and yet all completely different, and they found themselves on day twenty one with lemurs happily crossing and running all over their clearing and not giving a damn anymore, probably having understood that they sounded like the birds but they weren’t as aggressive. Well. Bones was trying hard to be — he kept glaring at them and muttering under his breath about grills and spices — but the lemurs didn’t speak Standard and they seemed to think the blue of his undershirt made him an honorary member of their group. Jim’s little friend — even if Bones kept insisting it wasn’t the same one nor his friend — had even brought Bones a half eaten fruit when he’d been counting the electrolyte bags they had left. Thinking Jim couldn’t see him, Bones had even smiled at it a little.

Despite the cute scene, the lemurs were getting a bit too bold, but raising their voices at them seemed to work at keeping them at least one metre away — Spock said it was probably an evolutionary trait developed to be wary of the birds and Jim couldn’t really blame them, he even felt a little guilty about scaring them.

After twenty one days, they pretty much looked like shit.

Spock was the best one off, of course, and his hair somehow managed to dry up almost straight every time he went to bathe, but his facade was cracking. He didn’t complain, but he looked like he was in pain every time he meditated and he was the one who was the most rigid in the mornings, the cold much harsher for him than for them. Bones had been spending the first minutes of every day rubbing sensation back into Spock’s legs while Jim pretended he really liked observing the trees.

Bones was… Jim didn’t really know. Bones was tough, but he was a doctor, he had a third of the training Jim and Spock had, and he hadn’t even wanted to come down there in the first place. His job had probably given him three times the mental endurance Jim had, but Bones was also tired. He slept the least of them all and he had to walk away when they tried COMM-ing up because he couldn’t tolerate the static. Other than that, he seemed fine. He called Jim on his mistakes when he made some, he offered his shoulder to lean on, he gave verbal comfort like they were still up in space, nursing glasses of Cardassian ale and going back and forth about fathers, mothers, and the home they’d both been denied.

And Jim, well, Jim was fine. He’d been having a bit of a pounding headache every time he stood up too fast, his bones hurt a little and he sometimes felt too nauseous to eat, but he was fine. He didn’t even feel the heat that badly anymore, he could go through the day with his undershirt on feeling okay. Everything was fine, he was just a little tired. He had Spock and Bones to worry about, his best friends. He’d worry about himself the moment he was sure they were fine.

That moment, Jim found on day twenty three, was still far away.

He’d been walking towards the pool they used for cleaning when two screams had pierced the air, one shriller than the other. He’d stopped short, looking up and around, hyper aware of every branch shifting and shaking, waiting for the birds to come down and attack, forcing them to hide even during the day. They didn’t. The screams continued in the distance, but nothing came at him, and Jim let himself breathe for half a second before he realised the two birds were screaming from the direction of their camp.

He ran, tripping on every other root he passed, and barged into the glade with his breath heavy and his eyes wild as he looked over the scene, searching for the danger only to find… that.

“… Spock?” Jim said, refusing to believe what he was watching, because there must be something he was missing, “what, uhm… what is going on?”

It hadn’t been two birds screaming, no. It was one bird, small, ugly, yellow, and missing half his feathers, and Bones. Bones was screaming. In a screaming contest with said bird, apparently.

“Leonard is dialoguing with the local fauna, Jim.”

“Uh-huh,” Jim hummed, wide eyed. Dialoguing, sure — if that was what Vulcans called being bent at one’s waist to scream your chest out to a bird. And the bird wasn’t even the shrill one. “Are we… going to do anything about it?” Jim winced as Bones straightened and then bent again to scream harder.

“I do not see a reason why we should. The noise is keeping the lemurs at bay, the bird exemplar appears to be a youngster with undeveloped claws, and I believe Leonard might find the experience cathartic.”

The bird in question screamed harder and shriller, Bones replied in kind. Jim started wondering if he’d eaten something Bones hadn’t scanned and maybe this was just a bad trip and he was simply very high.

“I’m gonna… I’m going to go back to the pool. Just, uh, make sure he’s fine, okay?”

“Of course.”

“Right.”

If that had been the wake up call to make him realise they needed to change location, it worked.

⚭

After Leonard had outed his frustration through his verbal altercation with the bird, he slept deeply, nestled into Spock’s arms and blissfully unaware of Jim’s shivering. Spock had been spending part of all the nights meditating, focusing his autonomous system towards the goal of maintaining a stable body temperature in the cold. Leonard’s heat helped, though it was not enough, and he had therefore stayed awake for alternate hours every night, in fear that losing control might bring him to hypothermia.

He had hence heard Jim’s struggles. He had heard every tremble, every shake, every clench of teeth to fight their clattering and keep his strain hidden. And he had not done anything to help. Despite all logic and all that was good for him, Jim had steadily and increasingly refused their offers to share body heat.

Leonard and Spock would have certainly gathered more than physical heat from the contact — they were in love with him, they could not refrain from reacting emotionally if he were to be in their close proximity — though their offers had been purely utilitarian: just the share of heat, to survive the cold of the night with less consequences. Jim had refused.

They had attempted to be cautious, to be understanding of his reticence, to use a submissive tone devoid of any emotionality. Still, Jim had refused.

Spock had ceased insisting, surrendering himself to the reality of having to witness Jim’s pain and discomfort without being able to solve it. Leonard’s hearing was weaker than Spock’s, though he himself had easily perceived it. When Jim fell asleep, his control was lost, and his body shook intensely from the cold. One could not miss it.

Leonard had wished to speak of it again, though Jim kept moving farther and farther away from them every time they closed their eyes, and thus he had not. It was becoming difficult to ignore, however, because the consequences on Jim’s health had started to show.

Spock had significant difficulties raising his body temperature to physiological levels in the morning, and he spent the first minutes under the care of Leonard’s hands, letting the warmer skin heat up his rigid flesh.

In those moments, Spock had not much else to do but allow Leonard to work, and his eyes often travelled to Jim’s form. He had seen how his body was becoming increasingly more rigid itself after every night he spent alone. He had witnessed his flinches when taking a step hurt him too much.

Despite this, despite all the pain Jim was experiencing from the cold, still, he slept as far away from them as possible.

They had ruined their friendship so much that Jim would not even accept physical comfort for his survival. Even worse, perhaps, he had decided to ignore the issue and not speak of it, nor discuss a way to find mutual understanding. He had asked, once, though Leonard had been hurt from the rejection and harsh with his quick words, and when Spock had attempted to repeat the conversation in less emotional terms, Jim had ordered him sharply to silence.

Twenty one days turned quickly to thirty.

The battery life of Leonard’s communicator ran out, sending him into an anxious spiral of pain and fear that Spock struggled to keep himself detached from. It was clear then that the Enterprise was not coming for them in the immediate future, and they had to find a more permanent solution for their stay.

Jim raised the matter before Spock could, in a moment when Leonard was away to collect water.

“Find something, anything that might not have the birds. We need a place where we can sleep.”

Spock had thus spent the next days leaving the care for the shelter in Jim and Leonard’s hands and following new paths. Jim had ordered him to trace six lines, each starting from the centre of the glade they had settled in, angled sixty degrees from the others. Every day he followed one, walked for twelve kilometres and regularly climbed as high as he could to scan the air with the tricorder, looking for a mountainous biosphere, one that he guessed would not hold the kind of trees that populated the jungle, and thus, probably, not the birds.

He had found one possible result, north-east of their encampment, though the tricorder had placed the base of the mountain at one hundred and twelve kilometres of distance — one they could not cover by feet in one day.

Jim and Leonard’s faces were marred with the stress and sleep deprivation they were undergoing. He therefore decided not to inform them of it until his circle was complete. Offering a solution that was out of reach might aggravate morale further.

Jim, especially, was looking more fatigued every day. Spock attempted to take over the duties he had assigned to himself in the few hours of the day he was with them, though Jim noticed, mistook it for pity, and outright refused. He was resolute to hide his exhaustion and struggle and spent long hours away from them, away from Leonard, causing a friction that grated harshly at Leonard’s mind, so much that Spock felt it painfully resonating through their bond.

That was why, perhaps, they both missed it.

Leonard had been too hurt, too angry and defensive, and he had taken Jim’s avoidance as a blessing, mirroring it even when they were together inside the glade.

Spock had taken to his duty thoroughly and had therefore missed most of the day time with them both.

And Jim had fallen ill.

Spock saw it all of a sudden, the signs of it having mounted up so much that the sight of him at dinner brought him to a pause.

“Jim? Are you unwell?”

Leonard’s head turned sharply to Jim’s form, eyes focused and guilty. “Jim?” Spock watched him as Leonard catalogued everything Spock had suddenly noticed: reddened scleras, pale skin, dark circles under his eyes, purple shaded lips, a slight trembling to his hands.

Jim rolled his eyes, opened his mouth to bite the fruit he held with badly hidden reluctance. Nausea, Spock realised, feeling Leonard’s agreement strong and pressing through their bond.

“I’m fine, just tired.”

“You look rough; let me check you out, Jim.” Leonard started moving towards him carefully, raising his hand.

“No!” Jim’s sharp denial silenced the whole glade. Leonard turned to look at Spock, hurt, confused. “The emergency med bag is for that, _emergencies_. Do you want that to run out of batteries too, just because you start scanning us every time we’re tired? What will we do then, huh, Leonard?”

Jim’s harsh tone, his deliberate use of Leonard’s first name, the snarl on his face, and the way he had walked away: all left them speechless, shocked. Too shocked, Spock realised days later, to recognise that Jim had been deflecting.

Jim spent the next days in a volatile mood. Spock wished to stop his search to stay with them to ensure Jim was not overtaxing himself, though Jim engaged him into an argument that lasted less than thirty seconds and ended up with him forcing Spock to admit that it would be illogical to do so.

Leonard revealed to him, in the moments of the late afternoon when Spock came back and Jim disappeared, that he used equally harsh language and verbal dexterity to speak Leonard out of studying his face or his body, purposefully hitting weak points he knew how to exploit.

Spock decided after three days that such behaviour could not continue — he would act. On his way back to the clearing, he thought of three different strategies to best Jim’s harsh remarks and force him to be examined and put to rest until he healed.

When he arrived, sure in his plan and ready to deliver it, he found only Leonard.

“Spock!” He was frazzled, his face was tight, his eyes anxious. “He’s been gone for four hours, I was about to just give up and let the lemurs rob us again to go look, it’s not normal, he’s never away for so long all at once, he comes to check on me even if-“

“I will go look.”

“Like hell you will! I’ve been stuck here for four hours, worrying like crazy! I need to go look, I can’t wait here a minute more!”

“Leonard, _k’diwa_ , I am sorry for your struggles, though I am faster and physically more fit. Let me look for him, I will come back every ten minutes if I do not find him.”

“Argh, okay. Okay, fine! Just… don’t you dare disappear, okay? Don’t you fucking dare, Spock.”

Spock could not promise that. If Jim had been incapacitated, the chances that Spock might unknowingly walk into the same trap and meet the same destiny were around seventy seven point nine three percent. “Of course,” he said instead, then took Leonard’s hands in his. “I give you my word. Jim’s direction?”

“That way, I think. You have your phaser?”

“I do.”

“Knife?”

“Affirmative.”

Leonard took ten deep breaths. Spock waited for each one, their eyes telling each other everything words couldn’t. “Be careful, okay?”

“Of course.”

If Jim had stayed on his initial path, he must have been going towards the cleaning pool. Spock followed that way first, phaser raised. The planet was uninhabited by sentient life, though the Enterprise was missing, and the hypothesis of an alien species already having claimed it as their own and having thus attacked the ship and left them stranded was not impossible. With the level of noise that the birds generated at night and a silencer on shuttle engines, anyone could have landed unnoticed.

He walked slowly, checking all possible angles and keeping trunks at his back whenever he could.

When he saw Jim, relief filled him so strongly that he lowered his phaser.

“Captain? You have been missing for quite some time.” His back was to Spock, and only half of his body was visible, leaned and half sitting against the bark of a tree. “Captain? Jim!” At the louder call, Jim raised his head slowly, turning enough to let Spock see a glimpse of a grimacing face.

“Spock?” His voice was small, rough, weak. “Why the phaser?”

Spock pocketed it quickly and ran to him, putting a hand to Jim’s forehead and pushing away his protesting arms with alarming ease. He was hot — too hot for a human male, and looking paler than Spock had ever seen him.

“I don’t feel so good,” Jim said, then proceeded to throw up all over Spock’s boots and his own legs.

Spock picked him up the moment he was done and ran. He ran as fast as he could, panic hitting the shields of his psyche, making them vulnerable to the brushes of Jim’s pain coming through their contact, highly aware of how weak Jim’s arms were where he was trying to hold on, and didn’t stop until he reached the clearing.

“Leonard! The emergency bag!”

“Wha- put him down here, quick, come on. Jim? Jim, open your eyes.” Spock was not able to remove his hands from Jim’s shoulders, could not bring himself to let go, fearing he might find him to be as cold as Leonard remembered if he were to leave his side. “Was he awake when you found him?”

“Yes.”

Leonard turned and sent a lemur away with his hand, bringing the emergency med bag closer but not opening it yet, his tricorder whirring above Jim as it scanned, his other hand on Jim’s face. “Jesus, you’re hot! Jim, you’re an idiot, how long have you had this damn fever? Jim! Come on, darling, open your eyes again, I know you’re awake.”

Jim did, slowly, unfocused. “Bones,” he slurred, “I threw up on Spock.”

“Yeah, I can smell it. Jim, did you eat something I didn’t scan? Did you put your fingers close to your mouth after collecting moss?”

“Wha’?”

“Did you — oh, never mind, just keep your eyes open, okay? Spock, where’s my ba- HEY!”

Spock raised his eyes from Jim’s face just in time to see a lemur with the emergency bag held in its mouth jumping on the trunk of a tree. _No_.

“No,” Leonard echoed, standing up, and Spock made to follow until Jim started being sick again, too weak to turn around, and he had to hold his head and body to the side to keep him from choking. “No, no, no, give it back, you can’t-“

“Leonard, do not scream!”

“No, no, no, come back down, _come back down_! _Fuck_!!”

“I think I’m gonna pass out,” Jim mumbled, his eyes closed, moving his face to press his cheek against Spock’s palm. “So warm, Spock.”

“Jim, please remain conscious. Leonard?”

“Jim, hell, don’t fall asleep! Did you eat something?! _Jim, did you eat something_? Shit!”

They shook him, slapped him, sprayed water on his face.

Jim did not wake. They had no medicine to make him. No medicine at all.

⚭

“This feels wrong.” Nyota must have repeated it ten times, but Chris didn’t tell her to stop.

She answered just like she had all the times before: “Everything will, right now.” She tightened her hold on Nyota’s hand and kissed her cheek. Nyota did her best to smile back.

Jim made this look easy too. She knew he didn’t like sending people out in his stead — everybody knew, because he joked about it, complaining with loud gestures and big theatrical sighs. Being on the other side, being the one who always strived to be chosen and spent the day before missions dancing around in joy, she’d never thought about this part, about sending others into danger and having to bear the consequences as if it didn’t affect her, or her command abilities, at all.

They walked on the bridge together, hand in hand, and Nyota didn’t release Christine’s as she stepped in front of Jim’s chair.

Shuttle bay was empty, apart from Sulu, Ryce, and two security officers, and looked pristine and clean on the screen. She hoped it would stay that way when they came back.

Their shuttle was already hovering, ready to go.

It should be her, she couldn’t help but think. It should be her going down to the planet because she’d been the one who had ordered the ship away, the one that hadn’t won a single battle and had been forced to tuck tail and run three times, knowing each day there might mean Leonard, Jim, or Spock could die.

Instead, it was the officer best suited to pilot a shuttle in a hostile environment and under fire, the best translator that wasn't an Acting Captain and a ridiculous security team that probably wouldn’t change a thing but that she felt too anxious not to send.

“We’re ready on your word, Captain.”

Christine squeezed her hand and Nyota forced herself to say, “Board and take off, you’re free to go, Lieutenant Sulu.”

“Sit down, love,” Chris whispered in her ear, and Nyota did, feeling just as small as the first time, but gulping the feeling down.

Sulu brought the shuttle to warp the minute he was clear of the Enterprise’s parking zone, disappearing into the nothingness of space, towards the brightest star on the screen, the one that was a solar system with an M class planet. The one that had Jim, Spock, and Leonard.

“Contact?”

“Clear and open, Captain, we have them.”

“Vitals on screen.”

They watched, holding their breaths, waiting the two minutes it took Sulu to reach orbit.

“ _We’re here, Captain. Dropping out of warp in three, two, one…_ ” the noise of the shuttle stopping filled the bridge, and visual came two seconds later, the blue-green planet vivid and alive beneath it. “ _Approaching orbit now, Sir_.”

It was fine. They were fine. When she’d brought the Enterprise close, they’d been shot at immediately, at distances far greater than the one Sulu had started impulse at. If the aliens hadn’t appeared yet, their plan to go blind had worked and they’d be-

“ _Captain, something’s wrong, impulse is not responding_.”

“Captain, we’re losing visual!”

“Sulu, what’s happening?” Nyota asked, feeling paralysed as she watched the planet disappear, and then all of their vitals, one by one.

“ _I don’t know we- we’re being targeted!_ ”

“Raise shields!”

“ _They’re raised, they’re shooting at-_ “ Static. _No_ , Nyota thought, her heart plummeting in her chest at Chris’ gasp. _No, not again_.

“Get them back,” she ordered, “get them back, lower shields if necessary, we need to-“

“Captain,” Chekov said, his voice small, “the… shuttle is not on the scanner. Its receiver does not exist anymore.”

Nyota didn’t realise she’d moved until the door to Jim’s ready-room closed behind her, and she was met with the holo of him, Spock, and Leonard sitting around a fire, looking so happy and so young.

Seven people. The count of missing crewmen under her command was seven people.

“Ny.” Chris’ voice was soft, hesitant. “Can I come hug you?”

After the first sob came out, she couldn’t stop the rest. She cried in Christine’s arms until everything felt too numb, until her eyes felt like plastic, until her chest was shaking from the strain.

“Seven people,” she whispered.

Chris held her tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So before you say anything, this is what happens in my mind:
> 
> Me: *pours a little bit of plot twist inside the fic*, *hand slips*: Whoops, too much! Oh well, it's ANGST now. It'll be fine. There's a happy ending.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few minutes (one hour, actually -- whoops) later than usual because of stupid uni and stupid exams, but here it is!
> 
> I will absolutely take the opportunity to thank again all the lovely people who left me some truly amazing comments -- thank you for your words and kindness, really, I can't even express how much <3

Their first night there, the one with the scratches from the birds and the destroyed camp and the fear, the panic, the first touch of the cold — Leonard had believed it to be the most miserable of his life. Human brains were trauma coded, he’d studied — researched, even. They’d climbed the food chain too quickly, too soon, and to cope, to survive, their brains had learned to remember pain and fear better than happiness and relief, but to hide it well, deep beneath layers and layers of coping, to only let it out when the memory was needed, when an event repeated, when it was either remembering or dying.

No, that night hadn’t been the most miserable of his life. It couldn’t even compare to the first night at the hospital after Khan, with Jim’s body so cold, Spock’s face so battered, the bond so thin.

But Leonard had forgotten, because that was what humanity did. Humanity forgot, built scar tissue above wounds, hid them from the world and hid them from themselves, saved the data in muscle memory and visceral feelings — panic, anxiety, fear.

Jim wasn’t cold anymore. Jim was hot, scalding hot, constantly edging around forty-one degrees, and Leonard’s mind kept listing and listing and listing about protein degradation and neural damage and tissue degeneration and septic shock and organ failure cardiac arrest death.

And Jim wasn’t on a thermoregulated bed with thermal covers and a biosign scanner. Jim was wrapped in the muddy remains of their tent, lying on damp moss, shaking so violently it was hard to keep hold of him. He was between them, his back against Spock’s chest and Leonard pressed as tightly as he could against his front, shivering and groaning and coughing everything he’d kept down in the past days, hiding from them.

He was just as pale. He looked just as small, just as young.

“We’re here, darling,” Leonard whispered, caressing his shoulder as Jim shook and choked on his coughs, on his every breath. “You’re gonna be okay.”

The scanners had shown nothing. No poisoning, no food, no allergy, no root, no plant, no anything. But Jim was burning, coughing up so much stuff he choked on it, and Leonard knew what it meant and Spock did too but neither had the courage to say it, to seal Jim’s fate.

People used to die of pneumonia, once. Without medicine, without care, they died, they withered away, became shells of themselves, too weak to cough up the liquid that was choking them from the inside. If they survived, their lungs were marred for the rest of their lives - big, linear scars of collagen that couldn’t breathe anymore, waiting for the next illness, the next cold, to kill.

Leonard had no hypos. He had no drugs. He had no fire, no medicine, no covers, nothing. He had a tricorder, water they could pray would heat up in the day, Jim’s despicable immune system and its fierce aggressiveness when he wasn’t filled with anti-inflammatories in time.

Jim stopped coughing with a ragged breath, shaking harder, burying his face in Leonard’s neck, so hot it burned. Spock pressed in from behind, vigorously stroking heat into Jim’s arms, sides and legs. Leonard brushed his lips over Jim’s forehead, squeezed his gelid hands, clenched his eyes shut.

They’d been there one month and there had been nothing but static, nothing but _nothing_. Nobody was coming. No medicines, no drugs, no fire.

Pneumonia used to kill. Pneumonia would-

“You’re gonna be okay, Jim,” he whispered, unable to swallow against the tightness of his throat, barely talking through it. “Just hold on.”

“Leonard…”

“He’s gonna be okay.” He had to.

Jim had used to run out of the shelter the moment the screams died down, when it was still a little cold and the light was still blue. It’d hurt every time to see him so eager to leave, to walk away. It hurt more when Leonard recognised the shift and Jim had still not changed, still not awakened.

As silence fell, neither Leonard nor Spock moved. Jim was still shaking, still coughing weakly, but the tricorder showed he’d fallen down to thirty-nine point seven degrees, holding steady and not rising. He was sleeping, out of whatever delirium had kept him crying out all night, his face relaxed but lined with exhaustion.

Spock kept rubbing his arms, his thighs, his back. Leonard kept stroking the back of his hands with his thumb, counting his trembling breaths, the minute spasms of his fingers.

When the air was warm enough to make them sweat, Spock shifted.

“I will bring water and food.”

Leonard nodded but didn’t let go. He started sweating before Spock made it back, but Jim didn’t stop shivering, so he didn’t move away to strip, just held on, rubbed where Spock had been rubbing, counted the breaths and the shakes.

Spock crawled in with the two flasks and three fruits, looking at him for guidance.

“One flask’s for us,” Leonard said, “the other one’s for him now. Make it heat up in the air, if we give it to him cold it might irritate his throat. Empty an electrolyte bag inside it and some fruit juice, the most saccharine there is. I think it’s the-”

“The ones with red juice, yes. You should undress.”

“In a minute.”

“We can cover him with our jackets if you do.” Jim shook all over again and it pushed Leonard to move.

He rolled away and sat up, opened his jacket and shrugged it off, immediately placed it on Jim’s shoulders. He should probably go outside and stretch, rub the rigidness out of Spock’s limbs, but Jim had started whimpering softly again, and Leonard couldn’t. He just- he couldn’t.

Spock seemed to understand, placed his own jacket on Jim’s legs and his undershirt around his neck. The moment he was shirtless again, Leonard went to lie back down, as close to Jim as he could, and swallowed his anguish when Jim snuggled right up to him, drinking up his heat.

“I shall prepare his water.”

Leonard tangled a hand in Jim’s hair and didn’t answer. Spock didn’t need him to, he simply crawled out again, silent.

Jim would be fine. Everything would be fine, he just had to plan it well. All the electrolyte bags were Jim’s from then on. They’d been idiots to use them for something as silly as heat fatigue, he should have known, he should have fucking predicted, he should have-

“Leonard?”

“Sorry, Spock. I’m okay. Just- nothing. I’m okay. You should shield from me.”

“I shall do no such thing, _k’diwa_.” His face appeared near the entrance, his eyes far too knowing. “Nobody is to blame for our predicament.” Leonard would have argued, but Spock didn’t sound like he believed himself either, so he didn’t.

It _was_ their fault. Jim would have never hidden anything so big from them if things hadn’t been so tense. He’d been a prideful idiot and he’d let Jim play him like a fool, had let him exploit his weak points and he’d let him hide. He’d been _relieved_ to see him disappear every five minutes, going into the forest and talking to that damn lemur and doing whatever else he’d been doing while hiding. Spock had let Jim talk him into those ridiculous and useless walks to search for something that they couldn’t possibly find.

They were to blame. And Jim- Jim couldn’t die there, for the stars’ sake. He was James Kirk and James Kirk couldn’t die on a planet lost in space, not from something as stupid as pneumonia, not for something that was their fault, not after Leonard had brought him back from the dead, he- no. He couldn’t. He would be fine as long as they planned it well, as long as they didn’t make any more mistakes. As long as Leonard didn’t fuck up again.

He’d survive it and Leonard knew exactly how to erase all the scars from his lungs if there were any left when they got back aboard. Because they would. They weren’t dying there. They weren’t.

Electrolyte bags, twelve remaining. Jim needed water, at least one litre a day. That meant one flask a day, where they could empty a bag on alternate days, and increase the juice when they didn’t. That would give him twenty four days, which were… which were enough to know if he’d survive it, or if he wouldn’t. But he would. He must.

The macrobars didn’t mix well with water, but maybe they could smash them with fruit juice and give them to him as a puree. They had five left. He could try and see if Jim kept them down, plan after.

The fruits could be used – they had plenty. Their juice could go inside the water, mixed with the bars, or even be eaten by themselves. There were roots that had quite the protein content but he didn’t think Jim would be able to chew them without throwing everything up.

And maybe… maybe Spock could find something anti-inflammatory. There must be something, there were always some kind of plants that could be used. Spock would find something. He would.

“It is still cold,” Spock didn’t seem eager to stay away either and after settling Jim’s flask within Leonard’s reach, he slid back to Jim’s body, offering the heat he could. He stayed there, rubbing Jim’s back gently, occasionally carding his fingers through Jim’s hair, meeting Leonard’s hand.

Jim slowly stopped shivering, with deep breaths and fine tremors travelling through his clenched hands, unconsciously readjusting of his body between them. He was sleeping deeply, the tricorder said, and his temperature was edging around thirty-nine point four. It would be the best moment to try and make him eat. Leonard didn’t move.

Spock did. He turned his head to look outside three times, went back to facing Leonard with a studious expression. It was hard to miss, what he meant to do.

“Don’t go today.”

“I must.”

“No, Spock, you don’t! There’s nothing out there; Jim gave you this idiotic plan as something to keep you away so we wouldn’t figure-“

“I found a possible place.”

Leonard snapped his head up, away from Jim’s forehead, sure he must have heard wrong.

“I found a place,” Spock repeated, his tone careful, “it is a mountainous biosphere that the tricorder read as at least three thousand metres in height — enough, I believe, to have different flora and, consequently, different fauna and climate.”

“What’s the catch, why didn’t you say before?”

“It is one hundred and twelve kilometres away.”

_We could have made it_ , Leonard wanted to say — to scream. But no, they wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t have, probably. They’d been surviving too well to risk such a journey, it wouldn’t have made sense, Jim would have said no and Leonard would have freaked out, because there was only one reason why they’d move and it was the certainty that nobody was coming for them and he wasn’t ready to face that.

But Jim was ill. And they had no medicine for him. They had muddy tent cloths and jackets and no fire and- and pneumonia used to kill.

“Different climate?” They needed warmer nights and a terrain that wasn’t soggy and maybe fire. Jim needed fire, he needed hot water for his throat, a source of heat to sleep better.

“I have reached the conclusion that the climate irregularities here are very likely to be attributed to the trees.”

“Very likely?”

“Perhaps eighty-seven point three two nine percent. I cannot calculate precisely — there are too many unexplained variables to consider.”

He really didn’t want to. If there was something that could worsen Jim’s condition significantly, it was making him travel, moving him away from a safe source of water and known foods, from the only shelter they had.

If there was something that could kill him, though, it was staying there, in that glade, that jungle, that place.

It wasn’t even a decision. There was no choice to make.

“Jim can’t walk.”

“I will carry him; you will carry the shelter.”

“This whole thing? It’s gotta weigh more than all of us combined!”

“We will only take the ceiling, divested of mud. It should weigh around forty-seven kilograms.”

Fifty kilos, every day, walking all day, maybe with scarce water and no real food. Jim whimpered against his throat and Leonard shushed him, caressed his hair away from his scalding forehead. Fifty kilograms, all day, sounded impossible. He didn’t have room to fail, though. Not anymore. For him, Jim would carry seventy, eighty, a hundred. Jim would carry both of them and the shelter, he’d find a way. He’d kill himself in the process if he had to.

“How long will we take?”

“Considering the terrain, the heat, and the weight, I assume thirty-three hours.”

It wasn’t hard to make the count, to weigh in the need for food and rest and the rebuilding of the shelter every night. “Five days of walk.”

“Perhaps four and a half.”

“Think we can make it in four?”

“Not without significant strain on our part.”

“Jim would try for three.”

“And we would stop him, forcing him to decide for four and a half.”

And Jim would fight back, force it to four, to three and a half, tear all of his muscle and still make it in three. Fifty kilograms.

“You could make it in three.” It wasn’t even a question, not really — Spock could probably run with Jim on his shoulders and maybe even make it in two.

“What could be, we must not consider. _Kaiidth_. We will take four and a half.”

“We’ll take four,” Leonard said. “Because Jim isn’t spending another extra night in the cold if I can help it. He’d do the same. He’d- he’d do more, actually.”

Spock caressed Jim’s back again, his shoulders, his neck. He would. They both knew it.

“I must go.”

“Okay.”

“I must check the path and find the best route.”

“I know.”

“Will you be alright?”

Leonard forced a smile, entwined his hand with Spock’s where it rested over Jim’s back. “We have food, water, shelter. You took care of us perfectly. We’ll be alright.”

Hearing him go tore Leonard’s heart, but he didn’t cry, not until he was sure Spock couldn’t hear, and then, he’d talked himself out of it enough to forgo the need.

Jim’s temperature seemed stable. He had to eat, he knew, and Jim should drink, but Jim should also sleep as much as he could before they moved, so he didn’t wake him. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine that he wasn’t there, that they weren’t there, but it was too hard. Too many smells, too many noises, too many-

Soft steps made Leonard open his eyes and glare at the entrance. A lemur was there, peeking in, standing on its hind legs, tummy exposed and fore paws bent beneath his chin. Jim said they were cute, and in a pick-a-plushie-for-a-kid sense Leonard could see it, but they unnerved him too much to agree. And he hadn’t wanted to give Jim the satisfaction, because he was a moron.

“Go away,” he said, in the tone that usually sent them running.

That one didn’t.

Jim said one of them was a friend of his, the delusional dreamer he was. That he could recognise it and the lemur seemed to like him back because it _chirped differently_ at him. Maybe he’d been right since the start, even if Leonard hadn’t managed to see a difference between them and Spock hadn’t bothered. None he’d ever seen had stood up like that or stayed after being berated.

“I’m really, really not in the mood for getting robbed. And I might not be able to make fire, but a phaser will roast you right up to a nice lunch.” It tilted its head at him, still unfazed. “Go away!”

Leonard spluttered when the damn thing ignored him and outright walked in, not a second thought anywhere in whatever brain it had, and reached Jim, reassuming position.

“Seriously?”

It chirped. Jim mumbled something that sounded like not giving up his badge, whatever that meant.

“If you touch anything, you’re dinner. If you wake him up, maybe you’re not dinner right away, but you’ll be the minute I see you again.”

The lemur ignored him, chirped again, then walked right up Jim’s legs to Leonard’s and started wiggling until it was buried between them. Leonard was so bewildered he didn’t even kick.

“Seriously?!”

The lemur chirped again — this time lower and for longer — and moved, sliding right up until it was pressed between their thighs, insistently pushing its chin up.

“Oh no, absolutely not. I don’t care what you managed to make Jim do, _I_ am not rubbing your chin.”

It chirped again, louder, and Jim groaned and shifted. Leonard pressed a hand against his ear softly and glared.

“I’m not petting you, so stop making noise! I’m not, don’t even try to- fine! Fine! Give me alien rabies too since you’re here, won’t you? Oh for holy sake, you’re shameless! Are you tapping your hind leg? That’s it! No more! You’re creepy, just buzz off. Off! Go away! Don’t settle to sleep there, you’ll- fine. Fine! What say do I have in anything, anyway? This fucking planet, I swear to god.”

When they’d had that thing with the tribbles, and then that thing with the Andorian cats - Spock insisted that wasn’t what they were called and they weren’t cats, but they were blue, they were from Andoria, and they looked like cats, what else should he call them? — Jim had thought that a lecture on pet therapy for all the senior staff would be funny. And he’d made Leonard give it. And Leonard, being in a revengeful mood for the check up Jim had managed to skip, had researched and downloaded and made into a powerpoint a total of five hundred articles, resulting into a seven hours lecture. He’d had Spock replicate him a football vuvuzela from the twenty-first century so he could spring them all awake in case Jim fell asleep. Jim hadn’t, though. He’d stayed awake all through the lecture and had even taken notes, thanking him after and not even kidding about it. Surprising him yet again, as he always did, and managing to make him feel important even when Leonard had been nothing more than petty.

It wasn’t like he didn’t believe in it — pet therapy worked, the results were pretty clear, it did. He just- he was himself. He’d never really thought about how it would make him feel, just how it would make others feel — his patients, his friends, the ones under his care. And he did hate the lemurs.

He didn’t really think he’d roast them if he could, but it was more for Spock than for them, because they were despicable little machines of evil and knew exactly what they were doing.

But Spock wasn’t there. And Jim was sleeping in his arms, scalding hot and so fragile, and Leonard was alone. And the lemur between their legs wasn’t really hurting them, wasn’t really much of a weight. Wasn’t really a bother at all, and the way it liked chin rubs and knew how to ask was… homey. It reminded him of home, of Terran pets, of Archer’s dogs and Jim running to play with them every time he’d laid eyes on them back at the Academy. Of better times — easier times. When he’d still thought the thing for Jim to be a mere crush and the worst thing Jim had managed to do to himself had been dislocating a shoulder in self defence class. 

Maybe Jim _had_ befriended the thing. If there was something in the universe that Leonard could swear by, it was that Jim was amazing, and lovable, and infinitely more friendly than his past could have possibly made him to be. If anyone could befriend one of these lemurs, it was him.

Waking him up was hard. The lemur left quickly the moment Jim started groaning and crying out. Every noise tore at Leonard’s heart, so he didn’t blame it. He wasn’t missing it, of course, it was just the patch of warmth it’d left behind cooling off that bothered him.

Jim didn’t reach full consciousness, but he did manage enough awareness to let Leonard hold his head up and make him drink from the flask. It couldn’t taste good — the electrolyte bags were made to taste like ‘energy’ because Starfleet thought they were funny, and actually tasted of weird citrus and bitterly burnt sugar, and the watered juice must not make it better. Still, it wasn’t like anything could taste good to Jim in that moment, especially lukewarm, so Leonard just tipped the flask up at small intervals and closed Jim’s mouth when he sputtered, feeling horrible and pretending it didn’t hurt to feel him so weak, to hold him down so easily, whispering nonsense until Jim stopped struggling and swallowed.

He didn’t keep the first three sips down, but Leonard hadn’t expected him to. They barely made it to the exit, but Jim was weak, he had time to move him farther outside as he retched, to keep the smell out.

The next sips went easier, maybe with a little more presence of mind from Jim’s part, and when Leonard closed the flask and got them both to lie back down, Jim snuggled up to him again — still shivering from the strain, but with at least a little more colour to his cheeks.

The lemur didn’t come back. None did, actually, nor they seemed to want to walk inside the glade because he couldn’t see any from the exit. Maybe hating vomit was as universal as hating macrobars.

Spock did come back, perhaps sooner than Leonard had expected. He crawled inside with his hair still damp, his uniform too. The warning was on the tip of Leonard’s tongue, but of course, he didn’t touch Jim.

“The distance was correctly estimated. I now know which direction we best follow.”

“Find anything else?”

“It is too far away to discern its climate. I am fairly certain the trees are different, though, since their colour seems to be brown and green.”

“Brown and green?”

“Indeed.”

“You think it means they could be set on fire if we tried?”

“I cannot make a precise estimate of such a chance, though it is possible that the change in colour comes with a change in composition significant enough to permit fire.”

His hand hovered above Jim’s head, but ultimately went back down to his sides. Leonard probably hadn’t hated hearing him go as much as Spock had hated leaving them behind.

“He vomited again.”

“Yeah, earlier. Fever’s stable, he coughs a lot, but he managed to keep down half of the water and juice. I was going to try some more in a few minutes. You should go dry up before it gets cold.”

“You do not require help?”

“No, we’re fine, don’t worry. Go, before you get ill, too.”

Spock spent his drying out time getting mud out of the ceiling of the shelter. Somehow, very little of it fell on them, and he was careful not to jostle anything as he cut the ceiling loose from the walls. He made Leonard come out to measure a harness, but didn’t keep him away from Jim longer than necessary.

Jim shook all through the night, coughing more and more uglily as the hours passed by. Spock and Leonard just held on, sharing the little comfort they could muster through the bond, rubbing the little heat they could generate on his skin.

Morning came with them having not slept at all. Spock would probably be fine and Leonard had slept the whole previous day with Jim, so it didn’t really matter.

Packing up took far less time than it should. Leonard had the shelter on his back, split in three pieces and weighting more every second, making him feel like he was fighting for every breath. His backpack’s belongings had been transferred to Jim’s, which was now at his front. Spock wore his bag the same way and collected Jim on his back, arms around his legs to hold him up.

Leonard hated the glade, really. He’d hated it from the start, for the humidity and the heat and Jim’s shorts. Leaving it behind left him miserable anyway. He almost wished they had a way to take a holopic, or even a 2D picture, anything that would last. Spock’s message on the trunks, carved there for any hope of a rescue they had left, felt like too little — too small to represent the weeks they’d spent in it.

The last thing he saw before he let a curtain of leaves hide it away, were the big, round eyes of a lemur, standing in the middle of it, raised on its hind legs, tummy out, with its forepaws bent beneath its chin.

“Bye, little thing,” he whispered, and left it behind.

⚭

Jim had the vaguest idea of what had happened. He remembered Spock, he remembered throwing up, he remembered Bones screaming and maybe even a lemur — his lemur?

The cold he’d thought he’d had must have been more than a cold, apparently, because he remembered coughing up so much that his whole chest hurt. Bones always told him that lungs couldn’t hurt because they didn’t have the required receptors, but Jim’s must, somehow. Everything inside there, inside him, hurt at every breath.

So yes. He remembered throwing up and he remembered being cold, then a little warmer and a little squished, then really cold and really squished. He vaguely remembered words, too — whispers, encouragements, all soft and gentle, like the memories he’d pushed down. He wasn’t really surprised that his mind would go back to his night with Spock and Bones the moment his defences were lowered. He just hoped he hadn’t said anything out loud that they could hear and understand.

He’d fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of it and dreamt of being cold and being moved. He’d dreamt of something warm just in front of him, and no matter how much he’d tried getting close, it was never enough, but it was still nice — the thing had never moved away, and when it had, it’d come back immediately.

He remembered being shaken awake, Bones’ voice, his smooth hands holding Jim’s head up and forcing him to drink something that tasted like rotten juice. He’d thrown up again, probably — he remembered the pain in his stomach and the strain of his muscles, but not the act — and then he’d gone back to sleep, back to being squished and kinda cold, then very squished and very cold.

He’d dreamed of hands and caresses and kisses turning to ice shards and bruises, of being alone and choking up, of not being able to breathe. He’d dreamed he’d sobbed and couldn’t remember if he really had, but his throat felt sore enough for it to be possible.

When he woke up again, it took him a while. He was nauseous, the taste of that weird juice Bones had given him was again in his mouth, and he was resting on something that was moving and it was definitely not helping his need to throw up.

“He is about to be sick.” He was moved slowly, but his head protested anyway, pounding against his skull and whitening his vision, so much that he couldn’t tell if he was throwing up for the pain or the fever. When he finished, the flask with that horrible smell was back at his mouth.

“Just juice today, Jim.” Bones’ voice, his hands on Jim’s nape. Jim went along with it, even if his stomach didn’t, but he somehow managed to keep it down. It tasted better, more sugary, but watered and way too cold, biting his throat as it went down.

“His temperature is rising.” Jim realised it was Spock speaking, and speaking close, but only after his brain had caught up with the feeling of being moved again, of being hoisted up against someone’s back, warm and dry, so soothing when Jim was feeling so, so cold.

“Spock,” Jim realised, thrilled, but it probably didn’t come out as happy as he’d meant.

“I am here, Jim. We are travelling to a new place.”

“Cool,” Jim said, resting his forehead on Spock’s nape and relishing the warmth. “Can I come?”

“Yes, I am… I am carrying you there, Jim.”

“That’s nice.” Jim sighed, rubbing his cheek on Spock’s shoulder and leaving a kiss. “Thank you. Can my lemur come too?”

“If… the lemur wishes, certainly.”

“Thanks, love you,” Jim said, smiling happily, and then whispered, “don’t tell Bones.”

“Sure, Jim, we won’t tell Bones,” Bones said.

“Good. I love him too but he doesn’t like the lemurs much. He’ll say no.” Spock went back to moving — carrying him! To a new place! — and Jim cleared his throat. “I think I’mma pass out.”

“Yeah, you…you do that, darling.”

Jim woke up when he was placed on the ground again, Bones’ hand already on his nape and the bottle already at his lips. He drank, threw up, drank again and kept it down. It was warm and tasted worse than before, but Bones said it would make him feel better. It didn’t.

He fell asleep but barely, vaguely aware of branches snapping and Bones cursing, of the external temperature dropping slightly, or maybe of just being colder because his own temperature was rising - he couldn’t really tell anymore.

When he was moved again, Bones was speaking way too loudly about fevers and shakes and coughs and Jim couldn’t seem to stop choking every time he took a breath, couldn’t even whimper right, because he just kept coughing up stuff.

He recognised the birds for the first time in… he didn’t even know how many days. Two? Three? He just knew he was cold and they sounded close — too close, but Spock and Bones were there with him and he was pretty sure he wasn’t being scratched, so it was fine. The screams weren’t worse than the cold or the unending itch in his throat.

He woke up again to Bones giving him more water — this time tasting rotten and burnt again, and Jim didn’t manage to keep down any of it. He managed to stay awake enough to understand that Bones’ back hurt and something had cut into his skin, but he gave up trying to open his eyes to check when he was placed on Spock again, his face and chest pressed against centimetres and centimetres of smooth, warm skin. Nothing, really, could have kept him awake.

He lost track of time again, somehow. He woke up in small intervals, often just enough to choke on that horrible juice Bones gave him, just enough to throw up or cough until he tasted metal and Bones made him wash his mouth. He heard the birds a few times, but he couldn’t really tell if it was the same night or different ones, or if there were any at all.

He couldn’t tell anything, anymore. He just felt cold, weak, and tired. So, so tired. All of his body was tired. His muscles remembered the coughing and hurt every time he did, as if he’d spent too long in the gym. When he threw up he could barely do it, and they cramped so hard he cried.

Reality was sluggish, misty, confused, too difficult to grasp. The small things he did see were snippets and flashes, sometimes conversations that seemed too weird to be true.

Yes, Jim was pretty sure he was imagining things. Like, he thought he’d seen Bones rubbing the chin of Jim’s lemur until the cute little thing started tapping its hind leg, five separate times. Which was just wrong, because barely a few days before Bones had been screaming at all lemurs that they were dinner the moment he could catch them.

At least it also made him imagine good things. Amazing things, really. Like Bones smiling lovingly at him as he caressed Jim’s cheek. Spock leaving soft kisses on his hands while he carried him. Bones and Spock saying they loved him. Still impossible, of course, but… at least he got to hear it once. Once was enough, even if it wasn’t real.

⚭

It became clear on day three that they would not reach their destination on day four. Leonard’s shoulder kept steadily bleeding where the harness for the shelter dug into his skin, no matter the amount of moss or leaves they padded it with; the heat had proved to be far more challenging than he had calculated it would be, and reduced their pace significantly. Furthermore, the shelter was hard to manoeuvre between the trunks, branches, lianas, leaves, and roots, and Leonard often lost himself to muttered ranting.

Spock had kept up the rhythm he had estimated they could keep before leaving only for one day. He had underestimated the weight of Jim who, despite being malnourished and dehydrated, still carried most of his muscular mass from his regular exercise routine onboard the Enterprise. He was tired, so much that he often had to stop and catch his breath, something that he usually did not experience unless it was at the end of his own most tiring exercise routine.

He hid it from Leonard, because Leonard himself was tackling a challenge that exceeded his capacities. Every five to ten minutes, he fell far enough behind that Spock had to stop and wait. Leonard reached him panting and holding his chest, sweat colouring his torso and face in the yellow glow reflected from the fireflies and the sun rays. Spock pretended he stopped for him only and Leonard was too tired to notice otherwise, or too angry at the difficulty of navigating between the trees with the ceiling of their shelter peeking out from his back, but Spock’s body required the brief respites as much as his bondmate’s.

They would finish their trip in five days, though only if they managed not to slow their pace from the one they had gradually sloped down to.

That night, they slept fitfully, shivering alongside Jim, who only woke to his own occasional cries, succumbing to sleep in mere seconds as soon as a caress, a kiss, or softly spoken words quieted him. Spock was so physically strained, he could not find the will to meditate.

He woke up with his body so cold, he found he could not move until the external heat had risen enough to make Leonard uncomfortable, and still, it took them thirty minutes to bring his legs and arms to a temperature high enough to be safe from consequences.

When he hoisted Jim on his back, he fit perfectly, having learned, perhaps, how best to hold himself. He was scalding warm, more than the air, and offered solace to his traumatised muscles.

Jim, in his feverish confusion, had lost all inhibitions. He was affectionate, he did not hesitate to seek contact, he spoke words of love and care, he brushed his lips and psi points against Spock’s nape and turned his cheek into Leonard’s hands when he helped him drink. He had told them four separate times that he loved them, leaving them momentarily happy, though mostly confused — how much of his words were his, how much were his delirium’s? Was he even aware he was speaking them to them, or was he imagining others?

It was difficult, seeing him so ill, so weak in his suffering. His casual affection might very well be the only thing keeping them afloat, saving them from sinking beneath the waves of desperation and exhaustion, giving them something to think of, something to look forward to discussing for when they would have reached their new camp location and Jim would have started healing enough to be lucid.

Had Jim not been with them, he would have ordered Leonard to cut their walking time to a half. The shelter held at night, despite being smaller, and they managed to find water and food every day. The pace, if continued, might damage them beyond repair, and it would not make sense to keep it had they not been in a rush for Jim’s survival. They had no medical bag, after all, nothing but rest in case they were to face consequences for the strain, and the hope that it would be enough.

The jungle kept proving itself to be a unique environment, one he had never seen nor read about. Spock was now fairly certain that the climate irregularities came from the trees — it was too irregularly regular, presenting the same anomalies everywhere, perfectly synced, never straying nor changing, clearly not depending on the planet’s movement around its sun at all.

The coordination must happen through a neural connection; the only biological elements that seemed to be connected were the trees. The glade they had settled in had been an anomaly. They had never found one quite so big, so flat, so devoid of arboreal flora for such a wide area. It was clear, as they continued, that the roots were entwined, perhaps so much that Spock was in error when he spoke of trees, plural. Perhaps the simple answer was that the jungle constituted of one single arboreal organism, one that gave life to the other smaller plants and the fauna, one that had succeeded in creating its own environment and found ways to preserve its stability to perfection.

Even moving, they did not meet rain, though they kept happening upon pools of water, just as deep as the ones they had used before leaving. It was most irregular, considering the thriving of the jungle’s life and the absence of a water bearing stratus underground.

One of the most curious anomalies was, of course, the steady presence and high population of the screaming birds. They nested, he believed, on the trees that were closest to each other, perhaps for an evolution that favoured flock life — although there were no predators he knew of that they should seek defence from. Their absence in the glade had thus not been accidental — they had avoided nesting there, for the trees were very far away, and had only spread there when they had perceived a menacing element inside of it.

Their presence did not increase nor decrease in numbers, and all individuals they encountered seemed to show the same aggressive behaviour.

Still, they were not the biggest anomaly. The biggest anomaly, if Spock did not consider Leonard’s unusually caring behaviour towards it, was a lemur. It was always the same individual — Spock had learned to recognise the amount of fur that exited its ears, and the specific shades of its tail. The trait that singled him out the most, though, was its tendency — and mastered ability — to raise itself on its hind legs, especially when it was about to approach.

It was Jim’s lemur, Leonard told him. How he had come to such a conclusion, Spock did not ask. The steady presence of the animal behind them appeared to have a calming effect on him, despite the many vocal warnings Leonard had spoken to its companions about keeping their distance or facing the consequences by becoming his nourishment.

Leonard did not seem to want to scream at this lemur. Every time it appeared — at irregular intervals, which further piqued Spock’s curiosity — Leonard smiled, greeted it, and bent down to caress its chin affectionately. The animal responded by repeatedly drumming its right hind leg against the ground — a sign of enjoyment, he would guess. Leonard was delighted by it, despite vocalising words that spoke of the opposite — stating, for example that such behaviour was not appropriate and the animal should be ashamed of it. Most illogical, of course, though Spock dared not speak of a thing that brought Leonard comfort that way. He simply waited and observed.

The lemur — Jim’s lemur, apparently — seemed to favour Jim’s presence, too. They left Jim resting on the ground on their jackets every evening as they prepared the shelter, and the lemur had twice appeared to settle to sleep against Jim’s legs, seemingly uninterested by the objects it could steal from them.

Most irregular indeed.

On day five, they walked faster than they had all the previous days, and realised only after three hours that the reason was a dryer climate and the rarefaction of the trees.

It had been so subtle, so slow, that in his fatigue, Spock had not noticed. When they paused for lunch, it became suddenly apparent. Even more surprising was how neither of them had noticed that Leonard’s insistent cursing about the shelter getting entwined in branches and lianas as he walked had ceased sometime during the morning.

Jim celebrated the change in biosphere with a fever spike, shaking as hard as he had the first night he had been ill, when they had still been in the glade. Leonard lost any trace of relief he had gained very quickly. He hovered close to Spock all day, his hands constantly caressing Jim’s forehead, his hands already placed to lower him to the ground whenever Spock perceived Jim’s acute need to be sick.

He did not keep any liquid down that day, not even water.

When evening came, they had reached a prairie where the scarce trees were green and brown, and, for the first time in more than a month, they watched the sun set and the stars appear, numerous and bright.

Leonard cried until the screams of the birds became audible and, after two minutes and twelve seconds of anticipation, they realised they would not be reached; they were too far away. Then, he laughed.

It was loud, booming, and free. It filled their small encampment, shook his whole body and transformed his face. The bond between them, for the first time since they had beamed down, shone free of any darkness, open and warm. Spock could not stop the gentle curving of his own lips, and indulged in it more when Leonard saw, and laughed harder, ecstatic.

“We’re safe!”

“We are.”

Leonard breathed out all the air in his lungs, bent on himself, then straightened, smiling as brightly as the stars above. “Thank you,” he said, walking closer. Their lips met briefly in a tingling brush, then again, more insistently, and again until it was a dance and a dialogue, tongues caressing, hands brushing. “I love you.”

“I love you too, _k’diwa_. You need not thank me.”

“We’re here thanks to you. You got us here — you got Jim here. And we’re going to be alright.”

The night progressed in cool whispers of wind and breeze, and they lay on the soft, dry grass around Jim’s body, hugging it tight, fighting his tremors while, for once, not having to fight their own. The temperature was comfortable enough to wear their jackets open, sides pulled to cover Jim’s body further, to offer him more heat.

Spock had not slept so soundly, so smoothly, since his last days on the Enterprise, before they had slept with Jim and Jim had left. Leonard snored. Jim shivered all through the night, though he seemed asleep too, and not lost in his nightmares.

The sun woke them.

For a single instant, before he could become more aware, the lack of the cold freezing his bones and muscles, and the insistent warm shine of the sun, made him think he was not on the unnamed planet nor on the Enterprise — that he was on Terra, at the camping location Jim had chosen, and the smell of burnt sugar was still filling the air. The impression faded quickly when he made sense of the actual smell — the lack of it, the lack of the rich, overwhelming scents that had permeated the forest — and felt the spicy aroma of sun-warmed grass and evaporated dew.

Jim was asleep and still, his forehead hot - though around thirty-nine degrees - his face slack, devoid of terrors and pain. Leonard’s own face was pressed against the skin of Jim’s neck, and his breaths were still deep, still slow.

They had exited the forest. They did not need a shelter, nor would they suffer the cold again.

Spock closed his eyes and let the sun warm him, let his inner eyelids fall open so he could see its brightness even with the external ones closed.

They would survive. Jim would survive. All would be well; the worst was behind.

When he stood and moved to wake Leonard, he was positive he had seen a blue shadow climb up a tree. He must have imagined it, for when he looked again, he saw nothing.

Waking under the sun seemed to have brightened Leonard’s mood just like it had Spock’s. He was calmer, looked at Jim with soft eyes, and smiled serenely at Spock when Spock told him he would go look for food.

They had packed twenty fruits, enough to last them three days, though he would still check. The green trees were devoid of edible elements, unfortunately. The forest that covered the mountains seemed more varied and flourishing, he was positive they would find nourishment in it, and thus he did not worry.

They ate three quarters of a fruit each, leaving the remaining two quarters to squeeze its juice in Jim’s flask, along with an electrolyte bag. The flasks were full, their priority when they reached the mountain was looking for a clean source to keep them as such.

When they began walking again, they went fast. There were no plants that they must circumnavigate, no humidity, no oppressing heat. The sun shone bright above them and the wind blew away its bite. They walked with their undershirts on, comfortable and fresh, and gave Jim their jackets, decreasing his shivers.

On his shoulders, Jim still slept. He had woken up enough to drink, though he had returned unconscious minutes after. Leonard had not appeared worried, so Spock had not worried himself.

He did, however, enjoy the gentle brush of Jim’s dreams against his psyche, revelled in the way Jim’s mind involuntarily projected the comfort he found in Spock’s proximity.

As they approached the mountain, they let the tricorders guide them, looking for a source of water. They found readings that seemingly indicated the presence of a river and went towards them until they started climbing.

The climb was harsh, though the river seemed not too far up: the scans placed it seven hundred metres above them. A three hours walk, considering their strain and the weight, shaded by the green trees that looked almost Terran, if not for their bright green trunks.

Hearing the rush of the water prompted them to move quicker, with more spirit, and they reached it in the middle of the afternoon. The sunlight illuminated the terrain of the forest far more than it had the jungle’s; the trees that lined the water were scarce. It was clean, very cold, and lined with blue and red stones.

“Looks almost familiar,” Leonard said. Spock agreed: it looked almost Terran, though with the colours of the jungle.

They tested the water, refilled their flasks, and walked on.

Just as the sky darkened, forewarning the impending dusk, Leonard stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Spock, am I crazy or is this a hot spring?”

Leonard’s tricorder was scanning their surroundings thermally. On their right, a hundred metres above them, a system of caves turned from green and yellow at the entrance, to orange and red at its chore. No life form seemed to be present inside.

Spock set Jim on the ground in Leonard’s arms and opened his own, analysing thermal, depth, and carbon footprint scans before confirming Leonard’s hypothesis. “It appears so.”

“No percentage of probability?”

“Ninety-three point two four nine.”

“We should go there, right? Walk some more?”

They were exhausted. The relief and morale gained since leaving the jungle had soothed their fatigue, though the lowering light was increasing their awareness of it. They had started stopping more often and their breaths were short.

Jim whimpered against Leonard’s neck and the choice was made.

To reach it, they had to climb an almost vertical wall of rock. When they arrived at its entrance, the sky was black and shining with stars. Leonard sat down immediately, barely taking the shelter off his shoulders.

“Let’s never do this again.”

“Acceptable,” Spock said, depositing Jim in his waiting hands and taking out his tricorder.

The absence of life was possibly threatening — it was a warm environment and an easily defendable one; the lack of inhabitants might be due to an inhospitality that could be linked to poisonous air or terrain. It was certainly high in sulphur, as the smell of it had already suggested, though it appeared otherwise harmless.

“I guess it’s possible that sulphur is toxic to the fauna,” Leonard said when Spock asked him, “the forest had a crazy iron and cobalt concentration, maybe it’s about the pH of the terrain, something about only living on it when certain plants do? Or maybe it’s about the smell, I mean, you don’t see many animals in Terran hot springs when there’s sulphur, either. There are on Vulcan, though, right?”

“There are,” Spock said. A number too long to count or list, mostly harmless, evolved specifically for that environment. Still, that planet had far more similarities with Terra than Vulcan and if a species had indeed developed there to survive in a sulphuric habitat, there was no reason it would not have shown in his scans.

“We can go in, then, right?”

They could, though Spock asked Leonard to stay and went in first. The cave was almost straight, its ceiling four metres tall on average, steadily diminishing. When he was inside enough that the faint brightness of the stars and moon could not be seen, the height was still above three metres, the width five point three. He opened his portable light, walking on, feeling the air temperature steadily rising as he did.

The hot spring was wide, and appeared to be located at the end of a long pool. The sulphur in the air was significant, though not too overwhelming. When he scanned the water, the tricorder read it as harmless and at an average temperature of thirty-seven degrees. The pool started in the middle of the ground and grew wider until it touched the walls, continuing in the darkness, seemingly endless. The tricorder perceived a wall fifty-seven point three two metres beyond his current locationt, with an increase in temperature towards the far end.

There were no life signs, not animal or plant, and no carbon prints of any past habitation.

They had done well to reach it, despite the hour.

When he went back to Leonard, he saw him holding Jim’s body — Jim’s face — over the rocky terrace that lay before the cave entrance, the one they had climbed over minutes before.

“Let it out, darling, come on,” he was whispering, caressing Jim’s back as he groaned in pain. “Just let it out and we try again.”

“The hot spring is a pool, at least seventy metres long and five wide, a metre of depth in the nearest point, progressing to three near the end.”

Leonard whistled. “Temperature?”

“Thirty-four degrees at its entrance, progressing to thirty-eight in the middle, and forty-five at the farthest end the tricorder could read.”

Jim ceased retching and fell boneless in Leonard’s arms. Leonard pulled him back, caressing him as he shivered. He was still pale, still malnourished, still far too ill. If there was a place where he could heal, though, it was that cave.

“Seems too good to be true. We could all really use a bath.”

“The inside, near the pool, is warm enough to sleep comfortably without a fire. I can search for nourishment as you start bathing.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather rest, hon? We have the fruits, we can deal for tonight and tomorrow morning. Maybe it’s better if there’s two of us holding him up in the water.”

It would be more logical to go search. The climb down and the following climb up would not be too strenuous without Jim’s weight on his shoulders. Furthermore, given their past experience with rations and thieving fauna, it would be wise to find a food source in the immediate time. Still, Spock was not unaffected by the day’s exercise. Leaving also meant forcing Leonard to wait to bathe Jim, postponing their sleep.

The decision, again, was easy to take. He knelt down next to them, helping Leonard move Jim to a sitting position.

They waited for Jim to drink a third of his flask before moving to set up a sleeping camp. The ground was rocky, far more uncomfortable than the moss of the jungle and the grass of the prairie, though it was dry, and they had backpacks to rest their heads on. The shelter they had carried was useless there, so they did not work to set it up. They set up two portable lights as makeshift illumination, the ones that could be charged with solar energy, and settled close to the pool, where it was warmer.

Jim, shivery and feverish, protested being stripped with weak movements of his arms and hands, his hair raised all over his body, signalling he was cold. He was too incapacitated to actually stop them and Spock brought him inside the water in under two minutes, clothed only with regulation underwear.

Leonard was already there, ready to catch him, and together they sat him with his back against the edge. They used the sand at the bottom of the pool to scrub themselves and Jim, as gently as they could, though from his whimpers and cries, Spock did not think him cognisant, not in that moment. They dried him with Leonard’s undershirt and dressed him in full uniform, letting him rest on the warm ground one metre from the edge of the pool, seemingly asleep.

“Have you tried COMM-ing up?” Leonard asked, fighting with his trousers to pull them over wet skin.

“I have, today.”

“No luck, I guess?”

“None yet.”

“At least we’re here.”

“Indeed we are.” They ate a fruit each and washed the stickiness off of their hands before settling to sleep around Jim, warm like they had never been since leaving the Enterprise.

“We’re going to be alright now, right?”

There was no way to tell. Jim’s fever had not shown any sign of improvement. It had, instead, increased in its highest intervals, once reaching above forty-one degrees and steadily maintaining the temperature for five uninterrupted hours. They had a reliable source of water there, though he had not found any potential edible fruits or tubers in the regular scans he had taken as they had walked. The possibility that none was available was fifty-seven point eight one percent. They were warm, at least, and they had darkness, and a clear view of the sky, should the Enterprise appear. Despite all the data at his disposal, Spock found that he did not wish to calculate their chances.

He also did not wish to destroy the small hope that had built in Leonard’s heart.

“I believe we will,” he said, holding Leonard’s hand until they both fell asleep.

⚭

“ _Nyota!!_ ” Christine yelled.

Nyota cursed, glaring at Chekov. “You were supposed to distract her!”

“I sent three security officers with the flu to sickbay!”

“Well, apparently it wasn’t-“

“ _Nyota Uhura_.” And oh, Nyota knew that tone. It was the same tone Christine used with Jim when he was too idiotic to get help and Leonard was so mad he couldn’t handle him in Medbay without slapping him. She’d never gotten the Kirk tone from her, but then, she was doing something spectacularly stupid — so stupid, Jim would probably approve. “What in the stars’ name do you think you’re doing?”

“The right thing,” Nyota said, because she knew that Chris had all the rights to be absolutely raging mad, but she wasn’t going to give an inch to anyone, not about that. It was the right thing to do. It was the thing she should have done one month before, one week before, the thing she should have done since the start without getting anyone else involved or in danger.

“No,” Christine said, grabbing her wrist tightly even if Nyota had stopped moving. She wondered, sometimes, how much of Christine’s worry for her during away missions was PTSD from Roger. “This is just plain stupid. Chekov, Worman, get back to your stations.”

Chris didn’t even outrank them, not really, but Nyota wasn’t surprised to see them skedaddle.

“That was my pilot you sent away,” she said, without turning around. Chekov had been in bridge uniform, but Worman had been in her away one, like her. She’d taken her backpack too, though — Nyota didn’t think she was coming back unless she used the comm system to order her and maybe reassure her Chris wasn’t around anymore.

“You can pilot your own damn shuttle.” Yeah, she could. There was no reason to drag another person into this, but Worman was good, she’d trained with Sulu and she was his relief. If the shuttle got fired at, Worman would probably last longer than two seconds, Nyota probably not even that long.

Christine pulled at her arm. Nyota turned, trying to steel herself. “I have to do this, Chris, I- why are you in away gear?”

“ _Because_ ,” Christine said, taking Nyota’s face in her hands and locking their eyes together, “this is stupid, and against all regulations, and even crazier than what Jim would do, but you’re right — it’s the right thing. And I’m going with you.”

“Absolutely not! This is basically a suic-“

“We came up with the plan together. We decided on the strategy together. We chose the best timing together! This is a suicide mission, but it’s _our_ suicide mission, and I am not letting you go alone. Together — or we find another way.”

“You’re Acting CMO! Who’s going to run sickbay if-“

“M’Benga, or, I don’t know, whoever is just below his rank, like protocol says they should! They’re not children, Ny. The ship doesn’t run just thanks to the senior crew, there’s three hundred trained people on board that don’t need us to survive.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you have the most experience and you-“

“I don’t think you want to play that card, _Acting Captain_.”

“I’m not the most qualified command officer, not even close. Scotty should have had the chair.”

“Besides the fact that no, Scotty doesn’t want nor should have the chair, Jim gave it to you! You, Nyota Uhura, Acting Captain by the actual Captain’s command. Everybody else is just a substitute and protocol says you shouldn’t go.”

“I tried sending other people, Christine! They got blown up! I’m not sending anyone that isn’t me!”

“I know that! And I’m telling you, I’m coming with you. We stick together or we find another way.”

“I can’t go knowing I’m sealing your fate too, you can’t ask me that.”

“And what, you can ask me to watch you go and get killed? Are you going to order me? Try it. Try it and see what happens.”

Nyota glared until the ice in Christine’s eyes made her look away. “This is unfair. I’m trying to save your life.”

“And I’m telling you I don’t want you to. I want us to be together.”

“This isn’t a field trip!”

“And that’s why we’re going together, Nyota! Would you let me go alone?”

“I don’t want you to come with me, let alone go on your own!”

“Then it’s settled,” Christine said, adjusting the strap of her backpack. “You won’t change your mind, I won’t change mine. Let’s go to the hangar or let’s go back to the bridge. Your choice.”

“I could order you to stay,” Nyota murmured, without the courage to look up.

“I told you: try it, see what happens. If you have nothing smarter to say, let’s go board this shuttle.”

Shuttle bay looked just as empty as it had one week before, when she’d watched it from the bridge. Their shuttle was already powered up.

“The moment we come back,” Nyota said, waiting for Christine to buckle up before taking off, “I’ll write you up for insubordination.”

“You do that,” Christine said, unbothered. “I’ll hold your hand.”

“ _Bridge, Navigation: you are cleared to go, Captain._ ”

“Warping out in three, two, one…” They jumped.

“This is such a bad idea,” Nyota said, glancing sideways at Christine, who was… picking her nails. Well. She was glad at least one of them wasn’t worried about warping towards what could very likely be their deaths.

“It is.”

“It’s something Jim would do.”

“Probably, yeah.”

“Are you just going to agree with everything I say now?”

“You’re making sense for the first time in ten minutes, why shouldn’t I?”

“The amount of sass that you hide behind your-“

“Warping out countdown,” Christine pointed out, smiling innocently at Nyota’s glare. “I love you, you know. So much.”

Ten seconds. “I love you too.” Chris grabbed her hand the moment Nyota reached for hers, holding tight.

Five seconds.

Three.

Zero.

The planet appeared suddenly, peaceful and slow, illuminated by its sun.

“Enterprise, we’re here and transmitting on all frequencies. No sign of the enemy ship yet.”

“ _Copy that, Captain. We see you and are receiving on all frequencies_.”

“Thank you, Chekov.”

One minute passed. Then two. At three, they asked for another scan to see if there was maybe something wrong with their emitters, but Chekov confirmed a steady transmission.

The pull from the beam arrived on minute four.

“Ny?” Christine asked, squeezing her hand.

“We’re alright,” Nyota reassured her, looking around. “They’re- Oh my god, they’re beaming the whole shuttle! Enterprise, we’re-“

They disappeared.

When the shuttle materialised again, they were inside a hangar filled with green light and blue machines.

Sulu, Ryce, and the security officers were waving at them in the middle of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like, it got worse but this chapter's ending _is_ slightly better than last time, right? A little bit. A tiny bit.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, huge warm thanks to everyone who gave me feedback! <3

Waking up in the sun the day before had been nice — euphoric, almost. Spock had looked so happy that Leonard hadn’t managed to do anything but smile back at him. Under the sunlight, Jim had even looked slightly better, slightly more coloured. They’d still been travelling, though, still on the move, in the limbo of not knowing what they’d find and how much they had really left behind.

Waking up inside the cave was completely different. He was vaguely aware of Jim’s shaking, of his body pressed up against him, Jim’s face hidden against his neck, his nose cold against Leonard’s skin. For the first time in a month, he didn’t feel scared. He was rested, almost relaxed, safe in the darkness and the delicious warmth that came from the pool.

“Leonard,” Spock called, “I will go fill the flasks.”

Leonard hummed, curling himself further into Jim, trying to caress out his shivers. He’d slept without his undershirt, just with his open jacket, and Jim’s hands had slithered beneath it, searching for warmth. It was intimate, comfortable, almost familiar. He wasn’t ready to let go when Spock came back, but he forced himself to at the promise of water and food.

They placed Jim’s closed flask in the pool to make it heat up, to be more soothing for his throat, then moved him towards the exit and let him lie under the sun, covered with their jackets.

“Food?” Leonard asked Spock, stretching and looking over the landscape. The jungle was a bright red-purple blanket that stretched until it disappeared on the horizon. He didn’t miss it, not at all, but he did wonder about Jim’s lemur. It had travelled a lot to follow them, disappearing soon after they’d left the jungle; he wondered if it had found its way home.

“I will go search for it after breakfast.”

They ate two more fruits, emptying part of their juices inside Jim’s flask but not forcing him to drink yet. The morning in the forest was silent — no birds, no rustles, just a gentle breeze, and it was too nice a spell to break immediately.

“Do you require help moving Jim?”

“No, don’t worry, go ahead. We’ll be fine — as usual, you made sure of that, hon. I’ll see you at lunch time?”

“That is agreeable. I will remain within shouting distance.”

“‘kay. Be careful.”

“Of course.”

Leonard watched Spock until he had safely climbed down to stabler terrain, then walked back inside the cave to get Jim’s flask. When he came back, Jim was still sleeping soundly, still shivering some.

“Darling,” Leonard started softly, kneeling down. “Wake up a little, so I can- OUCH!” He looked up sharply as he rubbed at the sore spot on his head, glaring at whatever had just thrown a- MedBag. His MedBag. He’d just been hit in the head by his emergency MedBag. The emergency MedBag that had been stolen by- that.

Above him, dangling from the cave’s ceiling on a root, was Jim’s lemur. It chirped at him.

“Oh my god,” Leonard laughed, “did you just- oh my god!”

Another thing fell and Leonard narrowly avoided it as it crashed to pieces on the ground. That was- that was Jim’s communicator. Jim’s destroyed communicator now, but-

“Hey!” He looked up again, and watched until the lemur climbed down to their level, came close, then raised itself on its hind legs and put its forepaws beneath its chin. “Did you… did you bring this stuff all this way?” It chirped again, tilting its head at him. “… thank you? Do you… want a fruit?”

Ignoring Jim, the MedBag, or anything else, really, the lemur grabbed the fruit Leonard was offering and started eating it, unbothered by the stuff he’d just dropped on Leonard’s head - figuratively and literally.

“I can’t believe this- am I dreaming? Is there something in the water?” The lemur had brought him Jim’s comm and his MedBag. The MedBag.

 _His_ MedBag.

That had medicines.

And antipyretics.

And… medicines.

“Oh my god!” Leonard scrambled up to Jim, barely watching him as he opened the bag. “This is-“ it was filled. It was immaculate; nobody had ever opened it.

It had the regen units with three full charges, the five antipyretic dosages, the five anti-inflammatories of various ranges, the wide-range antibiotics, the adrenaline hypo, the painkillers, the- everything. It had everything. It was perfect and clean and- perfect. It was perfect.

“Thank you so much,” Leonard said, looking over at the lemur, but the animal was happily chewing away at the fruit that was almost as big as its head, ignoring him.

“Hold on, Jim,” Leonard whispered, grabbing the hypos and calculating the dosages, his hands probably the only parts of him that weren’t shaking.

He injected the antipyretics, the high range anti-inflammatory, and antibiotics for the most common human pneumonias. The hiss of the hypos sounded like home.

They acted in less than five minutes. In Jim, they took two.

He sprang awake with wide eyes, gasping for breath, sitting up and throwing their jackets off him.

“Bones?” Jim asked, his voice scratchy, looking around confused, then coughed until he had to spit and looked down at himself as if he didn’t recognise his body. “What happened?”

“Oh, Jim,” Leonard whispered, throwing himself forward, “oh, darling, oh my god, you’re okay.” They hadn’t hugged while completely aware since… since their night together, probably, and maybe Jim didn’t remember anything of his fever, anything of their nights holding each other, but Leonard didn’t care, he didn’t give a damn shit. He hugged Jim to his chest as tightly as he could, squeezing and burying his face in Jim’s hair, feeling tears come up to his eyes. “You’re- you’re okay.”

“Very okay,” Jim said, “I- I had a fever? I remember coughing a lot. And throwing up. And the cold? Did I throw up on Spock? Wait, where are we? Are we still on the same planet? Is that my lemur?”

“You’re okay!”

Leonard must have sounded more desperate than he’d meant, because Jim’s arms flew up to him, shaking slightly but holding steady, hugging him back. He rested his forehead on Leonard’s chest, nodding slightly, and spoke with a soft voice. “Yeah, I feel okay, Bones. I’m okay. Did I scare you?”

“Did you-“ Leonard snorted, shaking his head, caught between the need to laugh hysterically or cry for a week straight. “You’ve been delirious for seven days, Jim. Spock and I were scared to death.”

“I vaguely remember some stuff, but… seven days?”

“Seven days.”

“Fuck, Bones, I’m so sorry. What… what happened, where are we?”

“You got pneumonia,” Leonard said, stepping back enough to meet Jim’s eyes, still unable to believe they were clear and bright, not reddened nor foggy, not misty nor lost. They were Jim’s eyes, perfect and colourful, wide awake and already reading him too well. Jim was okay. People used to die of pneumonia but Leonard had his MedBag and Jim was- Jim was okay. “Your lungs are a mess. It was bad.”

“That explains why I feel like they’re filled with water.” Jim smirked slightly, but it fell quickly when he looked at him, at the tears Leonard could feel pooling up. “That bad?”

“You were delirious for _seven days_ , Jim! Of course it was that bad! You’re a goddam fucking idiot! Why did you hide the fact that you were ill for so long, why didn’t you call for me when you fainted? Do you have any idea how close you got to being dead? If Spock hadn’t found you, you’d have- You’re an idiot! A reckless, prideful, childish idiot! If you ever, _ever_ , pull something like this again, I swear to god Jim, I will choke you with my bare hands, you fucking infant — I will punch your face and shave off your eyebrows and slap the shit out of you until the only thing you can say is-“

“I’m an idiot and I’m sorry.”

“Yes! Exactly that! You’re an idiot and you should be sorry, you goddam- wait. Did you just say that only because I’m threatening you?”

“I’m saying it because I can’t seem to keep my arms up and you’re shaking like a leaf, which is enough to understand how close I was to kicking the bucket. I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again. And I think I need to lie down.”

Leonard lay him back on the ground immediately, grabbing his tricorder and scanning him, eyes flickering between Jim’s eyes, his greening skin, his paling lips. “Headache? Feeling faint? Nausea?”

“Faintness,” Jim said, having the sense not to protest the scanning nor the hypo Leonard grabbed. “Vision’s a little black at the edges, I feel my heart in my head, my ears are pitching.”

“No nausea? Feeling cold?”

“Feeling hot, actually, I’m sweating up. Can I take off the jacket?”

Leonard put away the hypo, but let the tricorder run more scans. “You’re probably just weak but wait a few more seconds.”

“Sure, okay. Can I close my eyes?”

“I- I’d rather not. Last time you did, you…”

“I get it, okay. I’ll watch the sky. Nice view, by the way. Same planet? I think I remember Spock carrying me? And who brought the lemur?”

“Same planet, still stranded. We moved to a mountain a hundred and some kilometres from the glade, trying to get away from the trees because Spock said they were making the climate weird. It’s pretty nice up here, no cold and no heat. Also, we have a hot spring back there.”

“Oh. That explains the rotten eggs smell. The lemur, Bones?”

“Not even gonna get into that.” The tricorder finished, showing a stable temperature of thirty-six point seven degrees, decreasing inflammation and liquids in Jim’s lungs, dangerously low blood sugar and malnutrition signs all over his organs. “You can take off the jacket, but the instant you feel cold you put it on again, alright? Your lungs are shit. We can’t risk it.”

“Alright, lungs are shit. Good to know. I’m guessing you didn’t wait seven whole days to treat me out of spite?”

Leonard sighed, eying the animal at his back. It had finished the fruit and was looking at them curiously. “No. The moment Spock got you in the glade, I put the bag down and turned to look you over, and a lemur got it. Honestly can’t remember if it was that one, but that’s the one that brought it back. It followed us all through the jungle; we didn’t notice it’d come here too. Didn’t even notice it was carrying a bag, honestly. No idea how it did. It brought back your comm too, by the way. You can find it scattered all around us.”

“That’s… nice?”

“I’m guessing you wouldn’t mind eating?”

“I do feel a pit right where my stomach should be.”

“You’re on juice and electrolyte bags until I’m sure your body can handle more, but maybe you can chew on a macrobar.”

“…great. Juice it is.”

“It sucks.”

“Good to know. Uhm, Spock? Looking around?”

“Looking for food. We have eight fruits left from the jungle, they’ll last until tomorrow, probably.”

“Water?”

“There’s a river a hundred metres down or so. Spock went there this morning and filled the flasks. Yours is warm, sorry. It was for your throat.”

“It feels scratchy as hell, I won’t be protesting hot liquids. Murder-screaming birds?”

“None. And no aggressive nor thieving animals, apart from that one. Still don’t know what we’ll do with it.”

“Hey, buddy?” The lemur chirped, coming closer to Jim and settling near his legs. “Hi! Thank you for stealing and giving back our stuff! We won’t let you starve, little thing, don’t worry.”

“We ain’t bringing it back, either.”

“It’s a wild animal, Bones — if it wants to go back it’ll go back. It was smart enough to follow you here.” The lemur jumped close to Jim’s hand, putting out its chin, and Jim rubbed the soft fur underneath it expertly, smiling softly. Leonard wasn’t absolutely jealous about being clearly declared the second choice, the lemur could ask chin rubs out of whomever it wanted. He didn’t care.

“We’ll need to find food it can eat.”

“I don’t think it’s picky. Can I have my juice?”

“Yeah. Small sips, though.”

It was weird, watching Jim obey silently. Usually, Leonard had to fight him tooth and nail even to get a stabbing wound looked at. He grimaced at the taste but didn’t voice any complaints, swallowing down in small gulps. “Lovely. What did you put in here?”

“Water, that red fruit’s juice, electrolyte bag.”

“It tastes like rotten juice, watered down.”

“It’s good for you, you infant, quit complaining.”

“Do you have something for my throat, maybe?”

“Yeah, sure, let me grab the painkillers.” Leonard turned back to the bag, shrugging his jacket off a little to move better.

Jim sprang up so fast his face turned white, but his hold on Leonard’s arm was iron strong. “What the hell happened to your shoulder?”

“Goddammit, Jim, what exactly do you think you’re doing? Get back down!”

“ _You’re bleeding_ ; what happened?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it, it’s from carrying the shelter! Can you just go back to-“

“Use the dermal regenerator.”

Leonard huffed and glared, then pushed him down and let go only when he saw colour return to Jim’s cheeks. “Jim, it’s fine, we need to preserve the charge for when something serious happens or we’ll-“

“We’ll what? Watch you get an infection? I’m ordering you to heal yourself.”

“You can barely stand, you dumbass! You’re on medical leave and you don’t get to give orders until I say you can!”

“Bones, what can happen? Right now you’re the one who’s hurt and at risk. It won’t take much charge, just do it. What do we do if you get septic and I get ill again? You need to put yourself first.”

“Did I miss the invite to your medical school graduation party?”

“Bones, just do it. Think of all the hypos you’ll waste if it gets infected and you have to inject yourself.”

“Jim!” Spock was standing at the edge of the rocky platform, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. He met Leonard’s eyes looking lost and confused, thoroughly and heartbreakingly hopeful, and absolutely scared.

Leonard nodded encouragingly, smiling proudly. “Check him out - good as new and already arguing with me over medical stuff.”

Spock reached them quickly, falling to his knees on the other side of Jim. “You are awake! You are- you are well!”

“I’m awake and fever free, check me out all you want,” Jim said, smiling up at Spock as he fervently looked over his whole body and placed his hands on Jim’s face, careful. Just as hesitantly, Jim brought his own hands up to Spock’s wrists, holding them gently. “Hey, I’m okay, Spock, really. You don’t have to worry, Bones cured me right up, see? I’m really sorry I scared you. You can scream at me if you’d like, Bones did it.”

“I didn’t scream!”

“You did too!”

“I have no intention of screaming at you, Jim. I am… immensely relieved to see you this way.” Jim’s eyes softened, bright and kind, and his smile didn’t waver when Spock’s thumb brushed his cheek.

“Spock,” Leonard called, trying to stop them both from reading too much into Jim’s simple happiness, “I have to hypo him again.”

Spock jumped away as if he’d been touching fire. “Of course, yes.”

“Please be gentle, Bones, I’m a poor recovering soul lost in the-“

“I’m always gentle, you brat!” Leonard snapped, injecting him sharply.

“Admit it,” Jim said, rubbing his neck and grimacing, “you love it when I’m too weak to fight and you can hypo me to death.”

“My favourite version of you, actually, is the one that happens when you get it into your head that you have a chance against Spock in hand to hand and I get to watch you get repeatedly slammed to the ground. That’s very satisfying to see.” That wasn’t true, not really. He didn’t think there was anything that would ever beat having Jim in their arms, shaking for the right reasons, all gasps and sweet noises, leaning into their combined caresses. He couldn’t say that, though, not when things had just finally turned normal and Jim had stopped flinching from them.

“My favourite version of you is when I make you so mad your face blotches up.”

“Charming, Jim.”

“Yes, I know - that’s why I chose it!”

“I retrieved edible nuts, berries, and roots,” Spock interrupted, emptying his backpack in front of them. The roots looked tough as leather, the nuts kind of dry, but the berries were blue and plump, and their saccharine content as scanned by the tricorder seemed to indicate they were sweet, too.

“I guess I get nothing but juice or bars, hm?”

“See? You _can_ use those two neurons you have if you bang them together right.”

“Very funny, Bones.”

“I do try.”

The berries were nice. They tasted like strawberries and plums, somehow, and Leonard was very glad to hear that Spock had found giant bushes of them just fifty metres from the cave. The roots were very tough, but they vaguely tasted like ginger, so at least chewing wasn’t that bad. The nuts were horrible and Spock was the only one who ate them.

Jim was almost normal. He smiled, laughed, and joked as if they’d never left the Enterprise, listening carefully to Spock’s theories about the jungle as he petted that damn lemur — who, by the way, had stolen a third of the berries. Feeding problem solved, at least.

Leonard could almost make himself believe Jim was fine, if he didn’t look too much at his pale skin and the blue circles around his eyes. It was clear as light when Jim moved, though, that he wasn’t. Jim was weakened, something he couldn’t fix right away, not with a hypo, not without a protein-filled fatty diet that would make him regain his lost weight. His face whitened when he sat up, he could barely stand up alone, and Spock had held him all the way when he’d insisted on taking a few steps to unfreeze his legs. Still, Jim refused even admitting that he needed help — which was probably a good sign, Leonard mused, since it was completely in character.

When evening came by, the fatigue had gotten to him. Before Leonard could tell him to, Jim slowly lay down between them, passing his flask to Spock with a grin and a brush of shoulders, looking up with a relaxed smile. He was quiet, serenely listening to their chatter and only occasionally pitching in with soft words. He just stared at the sky, at the stars, his eyes shining with whatever magic he saw between them.

Before Jim, Leonard had looked up and seen nothing but void — nothing but nothing, really. There was something about the way Jim looked up at the stars, though, that drew anyone to look up themselves. Leonard had forced himself to swallow his fears just so he could look up too, over and over again, and maybe understand what Jim loved so much, what made his eyes shine that bright.

He didn’t see emptiness, anymore. He hadn’t for a while. He saw Jim and Spock, their hopes, their eyes with the light of a nebula reflected in them, their confidence when they stood side by side on the bridge. He saw his present, his future. His entire life.

⚭

On leave, three years before, Spock and Leonard had agreed to briefly travel to Georgia to greet Leonard’s family and friends, and introduce them to him. Stepping out of the hovercar, Leonard had told him he never realised how much he missed his childhood home until he saw it again.

Spock had not understood him nor his words — one could not possibly miss something without knowing, since the act of missing in itself implied conscience. Leonard had shrugged at his confusion, smiling and linking their fingers. “It’ll happen to you too, sooner or later.”

Leonard had been right, though Spock had barely considered the possibility at the time.

He was proved wrong that evening.

It was pleasantly cool, with a gentle breeze, the smell of dew in the air, and the spectacular brightness of the stars. They had been sitting side by side, Jim in the middle, until fatigue had pulled him towards the ground and there he had lain himself down, gazing at the stars.

Leonard’s relaxed face, the soft drawl of his southern accent honeying his words, his huffs and smirks — those, he had missed without knowing.

Jim’s easy smile, the sleepy slowness of his movements, his jokes and his bright laugh — those, he had missed without knowing.

All of a sudden, they were as they had been months before, surrounded by familiar camaraderie, by intimacy and companionship, content with sharing the silence and debating all and nothing.

A personal anecdote, the field of research of a friend, the newest discovery about mycochloroplasts on Beta Alpha III. Leonard’s childhood cat, the loyalty of I-Chaya, Jim’s laughter as he recalled Archer’s prized beagles and their enthusiasm for him. The colour of a tree, the distance between two stars, the ice found on the second moon of Delta Gamma I that was thought to contain an entire frozen civilisation. The flavour of raspberries, Leonard’s favourite coffee blend, Jim’s first memory of a Natural History museum visited with Admiral Pike. The incense at the Christmas midnight service that made Leonard sneeze, the taste of Jim’s mother’s Latkes with applesauce and too much salt, the soft firmness of wax under Spock’s fingers as he helped his mother light their menorah. The colour of the sunset in the desert outside of ShiKahr, the taste of southern sweet iced tea, the smell of grain when it was ready to be cut.

He had missed them more than he had ever missed anything else.

He was afraid, when Jim’s eyelids started drooping and Leonard declared them ready to sleep, that their companionship would end. Jim suddenly looked hesitant, keeping his eyes on everything but them as Spock helped him up to walk him towards the sleeping area.

“You’re sleeping between us,” Leonard said firmly, staring him down until Jim met his eyes. “I know you feel better and I know it’s warm in the cave, but I’m not taking any chances. We’re cuddling for warmth until I’m one hundred percent sure you’re recovered, whether you like it or not. I’ll hypo you,” he added, when Jim opened his mouth to answer.

They stared at each other for five more seconds until Jim nodded, smiling weakly. “Okay. You’re the boss, Bones.”

“Damn right I am. We’re cuddling this pneumonia away, medical orders.”

Settling to sleep was less awkward than he had feared. Leonard lost his undershirt and forced Jim to wear it under his jacket as an additional layer, “Just in case.” He then waited for Spock to settle Jim down between them and lay back with him, pressing his chest against Jim’s back and using his open jacket to cover Jim’s side.

“I’m warm, Bones, don’t worry.”

“I’ll stop worrying when your lungs stop looking like they were put in a blender.”

Jim snorted, rolling his eyes but smiling, meeting Spock’s gaze when he went to lie down at his front. “Hi.”

“Greetings. Do you wish me closer?”

“Uhm-“

“Yeah, he does. As close as when he was feverish, Spock — we’re taking no chances.”

“Very well.” He advanced until Jim’s face was hidden in his neck, pulling his own opened jacket to join Leonard’s above him. It was unbelievably natural, the way Jim fit between them. As if they had been made to lie like that, together. “Are you comfortable, Jim?”

Jim was slightly rigid, though they had kept hold of him in far more straining situations, and knew well how to warm him nevertheless. At Spock’s words, though, he relaxed, settling more firmly between them, and set his face to rest on Spock’s shoulder, intimate and familiar.

Leonard caressed his approval over Jim’s side, making him shiver.

“Yeah,” Jim murmured, voice small but soft, “yeah, I am. Goodnight?”

“Goodnight, darling.”

“Goodnight, _ashayam_.”

Spock chose to meditate for three hours before attempting to sleep. He was relaxed, comfortable, and rested enough — he would rebuild the shields that had fallen during their hasty trip away from the jungle. He dived deep within his psyche for the first two, working on building and reassembling, then resurfaced towards light meditation when two hours had passed, focusing on strengthening what he had erected.

That was why he noticed Jim’s movement immediately.

Jim sat up slowly, completely silent, brushing Leonard’s hold off of his torso without waking him. He could not see much, though he widened his eyes, bewildered, as Jim’s dark form stood and started walking away from them, staggering.

“Leonard,” he called, shaking Leonard’s shoulder. He would have granted Jim his privacy in any other circumstance, though not then. Not when allowing him to walk away had taken such toll on him — on them all. Not when his recovery chances were so low. “ _K’diwa_ , Jim is moving away.”

Leonard sprang awake with a jolt, turning immediately and squinting into the darkness. “Oh, hell no! This ends now! Jim!” Jim did not stop. “Jim! Stop right there!”

He kept walking, though he must have heard Leonard’s call — he was well within hearing distance.

“To hell with this — let’s go!” Spock stood, following Leonard as they chased Jim. He was walking briskly, directly towards the entrance. “Jim!!”

“Jim!” Spock called too, “Please, let us discuss it.”

“Jim, just stop, this is ridic-“ Jim passed the entrance, letting the moonlight illuminate his body, and… and kept walking. “Oh my god — Spock, oh my god he’s going to-“

Spock ran, springing as fast as he could, and still, he only caught Jim when one of his feet had already stepped off the precipice. He pulled him away sharply, circling his torso with both arms and continuing pulling until they were several metres away from where Jim had just almost walked to his death. Jim was completely unresistant, barely moving — a small gasp was the only proof that he was awake.

“Spock?” Jim asked, his voice soft and heavy with sleep, “what’s goin’ on?” What was going on? He had just almost walked off the terrace, almost walked towards a thirty-five metres fall into a pavement of sharp rocks. How could he not be aware that- oh.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind, Jim?!” Leonard screamed, coming closer and grabbing Jim’s shoulder, shaking them twice. “What the hell were you-“

“ _Leonard_ ,” Spock called, eying him with as much severity he could muster, “he was asleep.”

“He- what? Jim? You- you sleepwalk?”

“No?” Jim said, hands coming up to rub at his eyes, “Spock, can you put me down, I’m getting a little dizzy. Also, what just happened? Why are we outside and why am I getting yelled at?”

“Of course, Jim — I apologise.” Spock knelt down until he could sit Jim on the ground, finding himself more than unwilling to let go. Jim did not fight him off, resting back against Spock’s chest, his arms and legs trembling slightly from the strain.

“Jim,” Leonard said, kneeling in front of them, “you just walked right up to _there_ -“ he pointed at the edge of the terrace “-and kept on walking when you reached the edge. Spock barely caught you.”

“I…” Jim looked towards it, towards the place that had almost claimed his life, then up at Spock, frowning. “The last thing I remember is falling asleep between you guys?”

“You sleepwalk,” Leonard said, his voice weak with the force of their realisation. “Jim, is that why you kept moving away at night, in the jungle? It wasn’t on purpose?”

“ _Me moving away_?” Jim asked, clearly offended by something Leonard had said. “I never moved away! You were the ones moving me and then pretending nothing was happening!”

“We weren’t- we’d never move you away, Jim, what the fuck! We love you! Is that what you think of us?”

“What was I supposed to think when I kept waking up ten metres away from where- wait. You what?”

“We love you, Jim,” Spock said, at the same time Leonard exclaimed: “We’re in love with you, you idiot!”

Jim’s body fell limp in Spock’s arm. When he spoke, his voice was hesitant, small. “Then why did you bring me back to my room the night we- Oh. You didn’t, did you?”

“What?”

Jim licked his lips, nervously glancing up and down between them. “The night we slept together. You didn’t bring me back to my room and dumped me on my bed.”

“You- Jim, that’s how you woke up? We’d never do something like that to anyone, let alone you! Throwing someone out while they’re unconscious, that’s- Jim, fuck, you thought we cared so little for all this time? We woke up with you already gone.”

“Jim,” Spock added, taking Jim’s face in his hands. His mind was so frenzied it tingled Spock’s fingertips, sharp and filled with fear. He must speak, though he was short on words.

Jim had believed they had expelled him from their rooms in such a dismissive, uncaring way - how much pain must he have felt, how much devastation had Spock added to his weighed heart weeks after, when he had been numbed by Jim’s words and had only confirmed Jim’s suggestion that they had slept with him without any emotional attachment?

What word had Spock used? Satisfactory. Jim’s eyes had lost all their light at that. Spock had believed Jim had been separating himself from them not to give them any false hope — but he had not. He had been safeguarding his wounded emotions from an additional blow, one which Spock had swiftly delivered.

“Jim,” he attempted again. “All the words we spoke to you that night were sincere. We awakened to see you already gone and we believed you had left out of your own will, taking the precaution of not waking us to avoid having us forcing our unrequited sentiments on you again. You began avoiding us soon after and we did not seek you, because we believed we were respecting your space.”

“I…” Jim was shaking, though it was not from the cold. He was shaking with emotions, raw and uninhibited, rasping at Spock’s shields in their desperate torrent. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me anymore.”

“Jim.” Spock could not stop his arms from embracing him, touching him, attempting to caress the darkness away. He thumbed Jim’s tears until they stopped, held him through his shakes and broken breaths, let his heart break with the realisation of how much sufferance Jim had kept inside his heart. Leonard was frozen still, his face transformed into a mask of grief and guilt, though he nodded at Spock to continue when their eyes met. “You are our whole life, _ashayam_. We cannot imagine it without you.”

“I woke up alone,” Jim whispered, looking down at the ground. Leonard’s hand twitched — his fervent need to reach out and touch was straining all of his muscles and invading their bond.“I woke up alone, cold, completely naked on a perfectly made bed. I thought you’d- I thought you’d thrown me out and dumped me there, my- I wasn’t even completely on the bed, my feet were-”

“Jesus, darling,” Leonard whispered, horrified, and Spock felt Leonard’s heart break and his control snap. He bowed down until he was sitting astride Jim’s legs, taking Jim’s arms and pressing them to his naked chest, against his heart. “You’ve been thinking we cared so little all this time? You’ve kept this inside for so long — oh, Jim, I can’t even begin to say how sorry I am. Are you even alright? How could you keep being so nice to us when you thought we did that to you?”

“I just… I don’t know, I thought I’d overstepped my boundaries and I was a little mad, because- because I kept thinking you could’ve at least put me under the covers. But I didn’t want to lose you — I don’t know what I’d do without you. I just… I was too ashamed. But… but you didn’t do it. I… sleepwalked. It seems so silly now, of course you’d never do something like that, and I was stupid and-”

“And wounded,” Spock added, “and was justified in your pain and anger. We noticed your defensiveness and diffidence in the weeks after and mistook it for embarrassment and unwillingness. We have caused you such pain and sufferance, Jim — and then we willingly kept as much space between us as we could, worsening our mistake.” All those nights in the jungle, Jim had been so wounded, so scared they would refuse him and abandon him, he had slept alone. He had steadily declined all of their invitations, believing they could not have been sincere. That place had been incredibly psychologically draining for them — and they had had each other. Even in the darkest moments, Spock had had Leonard, and Leonard had had Spock. Jim had believed he had had nobody — and still, he had behaved admirably, he had defied all odds and fought with all his might to keep them safe, comfortable, and at ease.

“We’ve been such idiots, _fuck_ , Jim, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry! You came to us in the jungle because you thought we kept pushing you away and I barked at you! That was- Jim, will you ever forgive us?” Jim had _ordered_ him to silence when he had attempted a second approach. How much pain must he have been in? And still, he had placed them — their comfort — above himself. He had listened to Leonard’s worries and scared rantings and had offered solace; he had listened to Spock’s theories and had mindfully deviated his focus towards information or activities that Jim was aware soothed him. Was it possible to love a person more, when one already loved them and admired them to infinity?

“Forgive you? There’s nothing to forgive, Bones. You thought I didn’t want you and you were keeping away. I’m the one who should be sorry for thinking so little of you!”

 _Jim is both the most confident and the most insecure person I know,_ Admiral Pike had told him years before, handing him his forms to accept the XO position under the newly appointed Captain James T. Kirk. _Take care of him for me_.

Jim had had all the reasons to believe they had treated him horribly and still he had blamed himself and asked for no help or explanations. The bond was drowned in Spock’s horror and Leonard’s indignation at how lowly Jim must place his own value.

Spock was not surprised when Leonard spoke first. “For waking up like that, after a night when we told you over and over again that we cared for you? Jesus, Jim, if it’d been me I would have walked all the way to your room and punched you! You’re just- you’re so damn _good_ , Jim, we don’t deserve you — the universe doesn’t deserve you! You believed we’d lied all night and you still didn’t put the blame on us but just accepted it, you kept being fair and professional and you were _so_ nice to us both when we got stranded, I just- You’re so good. You’re so incredibly good, Jim — we love you so much and we absolutely don’t deserve you.”

Another fault to add to their list: how could they have let Jim believe himself to be so insignificant, so deserving of neglect?

“You love me,” Jim said, shaking all over, disbelief colouring his psyche and twitching under Spock’s touch, intense and misty. “You really love me?”

“Of course we love you, Jim,” Leonard whispered, coming closer and placing his hands on Jim’s face, right over Spock’s. It felt so right, to have him between them, to work and send their comfort into him through their touch. “How could we not, darling? You make us whole.”

“We have loved you since we realised what we were to each other, Jim. Without you, we are incomplete. Even if you do not reciprocate, we will never stop loving you. You are _t’hy’la_ — friend, brother, lover. We give ourselves to you however you will have us and require no more.”

Jim’s hands came up to tangle with theirs, trembling and delicate. They let him bring them all down, let him press them against his raging heart and shake. “ _T’hy’la_? Me, with you two?”

“You know the word?” Leonard asked, surprised.

“I… the other Spock told me — showed me, even — but I… I never let myself believe. You- Bones, I’ve had a crush on you all through the Academy. That day during second year, the one when I’d caught Betazoid fever and you brought me chicken soup to the hospital and stayed all night? That’s when I realised I love you.”

“Jim,” Leonard whispered, as white, scalding surprise and tingling awe illuminated the bond.

“And Spock?” Jim looked up at him, eyes wide and wet with honesty. “I think I’ve loved you from the moment you chose to come save Terra with us after we barely saved Vulcan. Your parents were ready to go back down and help, but you looked at me and stepped off the transporter and told them your place was with me. I… nobody had ever chosen me before. Nobody but Bones.”

He remembered. Jim had been smiling, despite the red imprints of Spock’s hands on his neck and the standard ice-temperature away mission trousers he had still been wearing after Spock had stranded him on Delta Vega for suggesting Nero would target Terra after losing the battle at Vulcan. He had smiled, helping Spock’s mother up the steps, answering once again that saving her life had been nothing, just duty, she needed not thank him so. He had dislocated his shoulder and broken all the bones in his elbow to keep hold of her. He had dived away from the transporter’s hold to catch her, while nobody else had moved.

He had looked so young, wounded and bruised under the bright white lights of the ship that had just barely been made his. “It’s alright, Spock, go with them,” he had said. It’s alright, ma’am, just did my job. It’s alright, Sulu, just took another dive to get you — no biggie.

 _Sam left when I was ten_ , Jim had told him once in Observation Room 2, the one where he insisted the space holos looked the best. _But, I mean, it’s alright — Frank liked him less than he liked me, at the time. I understood why he had to_. It’s alright, Jim often said, but it very rarely was.

He had looked young, vulnerable, and alone. And yet, his eyes had held such fiery steel, such brave determination — he would have saved them, saved Terra, even if it took his last breath to do so. He had done so two years before, when he had sacrificed his life to realign the Enterprise’s warp core.

All logic had been pushing towards Spock’s duty to help his people rebuild and recover, though Spock had stepped off the platform with no doubts nor regrets. He had joined that young, determined cadet into an almost suicide mission with very little proof and very little chance of success. _Spock_ , he had said in that small, alien ship that had recognised his name and called him ambassador. _It’ll work_.

James T. Kirk made his own logic, his own universe. Of course Spock had stepped off the transporter — for the mission, the lives they could save, the duty to Starfleet and his vows. But first and foremost, he had stepped off for Jim. He had chosen the illogical, impossible human who jumped into the unknown to land on a Romulan platform and save billions of lives, who dived into the void to save the life of a colleague he barely knew, who ran away from safety to keep hold of a stranger — not because of duty, not because of fame — because he firmly believed it was the right thing. Because for Jim, there was no choice but the right thing — no logic, no duty, no fear.

He had chosen the man he would fall in love with — the man he, perhaps, had already started falling for.

And that man, that bright, selfless, marvellous man, was laying in his arms, holding his hands, and saying he loved him back, he loved them both back.

Jim’s eyes flew from Leonard to Spock, once, twice. He licked his lips. “I really want to dramatically spring up and kiss you right now, but I don’t think I can do it without fainting.”

One look between them was enough to coordinate a plan of action. Leonard’s head tilted down as he untangled their hands and gently kept hold of Jim’s face, then pressed their lips together. Jim mewled, hands flying out to Leonard’s shoulder as Spock eased them all to the ground, carefully settling Jim’s body between them.

As their kiss deepened, Jim turned fully on his side, giving his back to Spock. Spock moved forward until they fit back together, then turned his head to nose at the soft skin beneath Jim’s ear, kissing it when Jim’s head tilted to offer him more space, biting when he whimpered, dragging his teeth down until Jim gasped and jerked, his lips flying off Leonard’s to do so.

“Spock,” Leonard teased, “you’re distracting my catch.”

“Then I am succeeding,” Spock answered, then pulled Jim’s body to turn. “Jim?”

Jim’s lips met his with fervour, wet and soft, and when he let their tongues meet, Jim’s full body shiver was so delicious he wished he could absorb it inside of him. He felt the press of Leonard’s body against Jim’s chest through Jim’s soft weight and searched for Leonard’s hand until he could tangle their fingers. Jim was warm, pliant, and delectably responsive. He made the sweetest noises when Spock caught his lower lip between his teeth and fully shook when Spock caressed his palate with his tongue. Their kiss lasted until Leonard’s hand left Spock’s — it travelled snugly on Jim’s chest, right where they were pressed together, then settled on a nipple and twisted sharply.

Jim jerked, separating their mouths to hide his face in Spock’s neck, releasing a broken groan and panting rapidly.

“My turn,” Leonard whispered, biting at Jim’s lobe, and Jim turned with his eyes glazed, lips meeting Leonard’s before he had even fully settled.

Spock let them have their time, caressing Jim’s side up and down as he kissed Jim’s nape, then decided to make Jim gasp when he took his earlobe in his mouth and sucked, skimming it with his tongue.

A game started between them — Jim would kiss one of them until the other stimulated him enough to drive his mouth away to pant and cry out, and only then would they switch. They continued for minutes and minutes, tastes mixing and bodies heating up, moving together perfectly.

“Wait,” Jim said suddenly, still half inside Spock’s mouth. Spock retreated enough to let him speak again, waiting patiently, feeling Leonard’s hands stop in their wandering. “Sorry, sorry, I think- I think I’m about to pass out.”

Leonard quickly moved back, letting Jim roll on his back between them, flushed and marvellous. “Breathe, darling. It’s okay, don’t worry, take your time. Want me to count them for you?” Jim nodded, eyes closed, cheeks red.

Leonard counted slowly and Jim followed obediently, inhaling and exhaling on command. He stopped at number twelve, opening his eyes again with a quick fluttering of lushes, looking up at the stars, then at each of them in turn. “‘Kay,” he said. “Passed. Whose turn?”

“Still mine,” Spock said, pulling Jim back against himself the moment Leonard smirked and nodded he could. Jim fit back between them perfectly — shivering, whimpering, and groaning, only to freeze as he was moving back to face Leonard, after he had managed to make him gasp with a sharp bite to his neck.

“Faint again?” Leonard asked. Jim shook his head.

“I really don’t mind, uhm, _these_ ,” he said, rocking once, back and forth, against both their hardnesses, making them both grunt and jerk. “But I am really up for this _and_ into this, and I’m a little freaked out that I’m not… totally _up_ myself.”

Leonard chuckled, kissing his forehead and caressing a stray lock of hair away from it. “You’re just tired, Jim.”

“Trust me, I’ve never been more awake in my life.”

“ _Your body_ is tired, then. It’ll come back, don’t worry — all natural.”

“You don’t mind?”

“We’re not having sex until you can run without fainting, Jim — we don’t mind.”

“Your appreciation is very explicit nevertheless.”

“I’m too loud?”

“Jim,” Leonard said, kissing him soundly. “You’re perfect. Don’t worry about a thing.”

“My sentence implied that your appreciation is very appreciated.”

“See, darling? You made Spock use the same word twice in a sentence. If that’s not a testament to how much you’re blowing our minds, I don’t know what is.”

⚭

Bones ordered them all back to sleep after the third time Jim had to press pause on kissing to catch his breath. Jim was sad, but then Spock picked him up like a fairytale princess bride and pecked his cheek, so he didn’t complain. He insisted all the way that he wasn’t tired, but he didn’t last long under their caresses, falling asleep first.

When he woke up again, he was in Bones’ arms, his cheek on Bones’ naked chest and half his body draped over him. He tried moving his head to see if he could find Spock anywhere, but Bones rumbled, “He’s gone looking for food, go back to sleep,” so Jim set himself back down, shivering when Bones started scratching his fingers against the back of his head.

They loved him. Bones and Spock loved him and Jim… Jim could have them. He could have them and all they’d done the night before and all they’d done back on the Enterprise, he could have everything he’d ever dreamed of. They… they loved him.

He felt silly, knowing what had happened. Of course he’d sleepwalked. Bones and Spock were nice — like, really really nice. They’d never do anything like that. And why had they waited almost two months to talk it out? If he’d gone to them immediately, like Gaila had suggested, nothing would have happened and they could have had weeks and weeks of sex and romantic stuff. And sex. And maybe they would have still ended up there, stranded, but at least they would have had no misunderstandings, and maybe Jim wouldn’t have caught pneumonia and almost died, and maybe he’d be still there in that cave but with permission to eat solid foods.

“Bones?”

“Hmh?” Bones answered, sending the vibrations of his voice all through his chest.

“Can I have a berry today?”

“If you eat half a macrobar you can have a berry.”

“But I don’t like macrobars. They’re dry and taste of sawdust.”

“Are you thirty or three?”

“Three.”

“‘Kay then, you can have your berry if you finish half your macrobar.”

“Kidding, I’m thirty.”

“Then you’re a functional adult who doesn’t need to be awarded for eating the food that’s good for them, so you’ll have half a macrobar, your juice, and nothing else.”

“I don’t like this game.”

“It’s not a game, you infant — it’s a recovery diet.”

“Okay, but I think I deserve more than one berry if I eat the bar.”

“You can have two.”

“I want ten.”

“Three.”

“Eight?”

“Five.”

“Eight!”

“Four and I’m getting lower every time you argue.”

“Ok, no, sorry — five is fine! I love five. Five, it’s decided, we settled on it, no confirmation needed.”

Bones snorted, but his hands didn’t stop petting him, so Jim didn’t think he was upset.

“Bones?”

He sighed, but his voice held a smile when he answered. “Yeah, Jim?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, darling. You’re not going back to sleep, are you?”

Jim shook his head. “No.”

“Well, then,” Bones murmured, pulling Jim up and sideways, then pushing him on his back on the ground. He climbed over him, smile still in place. “Let’s do something productive.”

Spock found them like that, kissing wetly and with hands roaming freely under their clothes, but looking at his eyes when he opened one of the lights, it didn’t seem like he minded.

“Hi,” Jim said, redirecting Bones’ mouth to his neck. “Found stuff?”

“Indeed. More nuts than roots, this time, and a hundred and twelve berries.”

Bones groaned loudly in Jim’s neck, grumbling, “Why? The nuts are horrible.”

“Oh,” Jim said, “who’s the three year old, now, huh?”

Bones bit him.

They had breakfast outside, under the sun. The view was breathtaking, clear and colourful, and the breeze felt so nice in Jim’s hair that he found he didn’t even want to complain about the three jackets Bones forced him to wear. Spock spoke of his theories as to why it had never rained there, his explanation of how the forest looked around the cave, of how many small animals he’d seen walking around. Jim was curious — he’d never seen anything but that nightmarish, psychedelic jungle since getting down there, so he listened gladly, but Bones didn’t seem too enthusiastic. He was the one who missed home the most, Jim knew, so neither of them forced him to talk.

He still hung around, throwing berries at the lemur. Jim wasn’t absolutely keeping count of how many the lemur got and how many he was allowed, of course. It wasn’t like he believed Bones liked the lemur more than he liked him since he’d given it seventeen more berries than he’d given Jim — Bones loved him, he’d told him. He just liked the lemur and he _loved_ Jim. He didn’t care. He wasn’t keeping count. He got six berries, though, because Bones was a softie and Jim had eaten his macrobars without making faces.

Well, he had made faces. Bones just hadn’t seen them and Spock had kept his silence, looking thoroughly amused. In the Spock way, of course. With that small line that appeared at the corners of both his eyes that meant he was outright chuckling.

They had enough food for the day, so Spock said he wouldn’t leave again and they could do whatever. Jim itched to explore, but he could barely stand up without leaning against something — or, someone, usually Spock and his infinite patience — so he didn’t think starting with a thirty something metres climb down was a good way to go.

“We should bathe,” Bones said. “Jim’s awake, we can all wash our clothes and let them dry out here.”

Jim was still a little freaked about leaving their stuff out, even the clothes — the lemurs had taken his lucky shorts, the imps — but Spock and Bones seemed pretty unworried, so he just said yes. The prospect of bathing was actually really good. Hot water, darkness, sand to scrub with. Both Spock and Bones naked and in the water with him. He was up for bathing.

He managed to undress all on his own — sitting down and wiggling like an idiot, but he managed. Bones was already in the water when Jim finished and Spock was quick to help him inside and leave him within Bones’ reach.

They sat down right there, where the water was shallow enough to keep their necks out, and scrubbed clothes. Spock gave them some weird leaves and flowers he’d found while collecting food that he said would work to clean out the worst of the mess — like birds’ and lemurs’ poop, Jim’s vomit, their blood, mud, and whatever else they’d gathered in thirty days. Scrubbing them on cloth was a nightmare but they left a nice smell of lemon grass in the air, so it wasn’t too bad.

It was tiring as hell, though. By the time Jim was finished with his clothes, Bones and Spock had washed both their uniforms and themselves, and were working on taking mud off their boots.

Spock scrubbed Jim’s clothes again when he was done, but Jim had expected it when he’d noticed that his scrubbing had the force of a five year old petting a kitten in comparison to theirs.

Spock was also the one who got out, completely naked, to go put their clothes under the sunlight to dry. The artificial lights they had up weren’t the most flattering, but he still looked impossibly good somehow.

When Jim met Bones’ eyes after having ogled him all the way, he was smirking. “I know — nice view, huh?”

“Very much.”

“Wanna try and use these flowers to wash your hair?”

“Maybe? My arms are dead.”

“Come here, I’ll do it.”

Jim sat with his legs crossed and his hands on his thighs, shivering slightly when he felt Bones’ body settle behind him, raised on his knees. His hands tilted Jim’s head back gently and Jim’s thankful smile was rewarded with a small, brief kiss to his forehead.

It was nice. The water was cozy warm, the sand under him was soft, and Bones’ body stood reassuringly close, their skin brushing. Having his hair wet slowly by Bones’ hands felt pretty amazing, too.

“You slept well, darling?”

Jim hummed, shivering when Bones started scrubbing with long, strong fingers. “Very well. You?”

“Best night of sleep in two months. I think we’ll have to rinse and repeat, there’s mud.”

“That’s okay.”

“Ready? I’ll hold you, don’t worry.”

“Sure.” Bones was strong, something people tended to forget when they went under his hands for medical reasons — he was gentle, careful, and respectful. But he trained just as hard as anyone else, keeping up with the regime Chapel had built for him, and his shoulders, when they stood side by side, were broader than Jim’s. He knew Bones was strong, but he loved being reminded in times like these, with casual ease. He was tilted back carefully, held up by Bones’ arm and chest, until his nape touched the water and Bones started rinsing, careful not to get anything in Jim’s eyes. By the time he was straightened, he’d been ready to fall asleep right there.

“Nice?” Bones asked, going back to scrubbing, still holding more than half of Jim’s weight against his chest and stomach.

“Yeah.”

Spock came back while Bones was rinsing Jim’s hair again, looking over at them curiously.

“Bones is washing my hair,” Jim said, smiling and probably looking like a dopey idiot.

“I see.”

“It’s very romantic.”

“Until you find out it’s because you can’t keep your arms up, Jim. Alright — clean and fresh, up we go, darling.”

“Still romantic,” Jim said, resting against Bones even after they straightened back up.

“Do you require assistance for your body too, Jim?” Spock asked, eyes intense as he looked them over.

“Oh,” was the only thing Jim managed to say, feeling Bones’ hands pause on his shoulder. Sometimes, Jim felt like he could read Spock like a book. Other times, he didn’t know if Spock was kidding or serious, but Spock usually helped sort that one out by either staring down at him with the disappointed non-frown, or making a dry joke.

And then there were _those_ times, the ones when Spock spoke completely innocent and genuinely caring words while looking at him like he wanted to eat him whole. Those times, Jim didn’t know if Spock was being nice and asking a completely normal question and he was reading too much into it, or if Spock was really making him an indecent proposition. Before the sex thing, Jim had gotten out of those by doing everything he could to steer the conversation away from the three hundred sexually charged come backs that appeared in his brain, usually bringing up work. Or Bones. Or Sarek, when he was really really desperate. And then spending the next six hours telling himself it was all in his head.

But. Maybe it wasn’t? Because Jim was pretty sure that he was currently on the receiving end of the same look Spock had given him on chess night — _the night_ — just before kissing the daylights out of him.

And he was also pretty sure that Bones’ hand was steering towards his ass.

“He does require assistance, Spock. We don’t want him fatigued.”

“Of course we do not,” Spock murmured, coming closer with a hot once over that made Jim gulp. It was scary, how in sync Spock and Bones were, because Spock reached them the moment Bones was done kneeling back and pulling Jim’s body up to sit on his thighs. “Jim? Your right leg?”

Jim gave it to him without daring to speak a word.

The air was charged, but Spock and Bones started easy, and Jim’s first groan was one of relief and pure bliss as Spock massaged sand against the sole of his foot and Bones scrubbed his arm. They went slow, cleaning him inch by inch with careful hands, massaging his muscles and making him hum and shiver in delight, body loose and completely in their hands. Whenever they dunked to get more sand or moved to a new place, they left a small kiss on him, or a softly-spoken praise.

Jim had received massages before — Gaila liked them and she brought him along whenever she got fidelity customers package deals — but he’d never felt anything so relaxing, so intimate, so caring. The sand was soft, scrubbing gently without burning, and scalding hot, more than the water. Their hands rubbed it vigorously, thoroughly, not leaving one centimetre of skin unattended, and they held him up in such a way that Jim could just float, unworried, and think of nothing else but their caresses.

He wasn’t proud of the fact that he started edging towards sleep five minutes in. When Spock pulled him forward and started cleaning Jim’s inner thighs, he let his eyes flutter closed, sighing and humming with pleasure. Spock was thorough even there, not stopping when he reached between his legs, cleaning him there too, carefully and gently, making Jim shiver in delight.

When they were done, he was almost asleep and had no intention of moving. They seemed to share the sentiment, because they kept their hands on him — stroking, skimming, holding, and kissing — until Bones chuckled.

“Jim?”

“Hmh?”

“You remember last night, when you said you weren’t _up_ and you got worried about it? And I said It’d come back?”

“Yeah?”

“It is back,” Spock whispered right in Jim’s ear, taking him in his hand and stroking once, slow and tight.

Jim gasped, bending on himself and scrunching his eyes as he saw stars. He was- he hadn’t even noticed, he’d just been feeling so good, so relaxed and loved, he was… up. He opened his mouth to suggest they do something about it — because he could feel they were both _up_ too — but Spock kissed him, nudging his lips open and blowing his mind with his tongue, rasping at Jim’s palate with the rough side in the way he’d learned made Jim’s eyes roll back and his whole body shudder.

“I think you deserve a treat, darling. Spock?”

“Agreed,” Spock growled, barely taking his mouth off Jim’s, and stroking again. Jim whimpered, arms flying out to get enough leverage to thrust, but Spock ate it up and grabbed his wrists, stopping him, making him utterly dependent on them. Vulcans have an eidetic memory, Jim’s brain wildly reminded him. Spock remembered everything that had made Jim go mad the last time, in thorough details — even how much he’d loved being held down.

“How are we going about it?” Bones asked, then bit Jim’s earlobe and pulled, making him mewl and shake.

“He cannot move and I had him last time.”

“Great.” Jim had no idea what had just passed between them, but as long as they kept touching him like that he was fine. “There’s silicon lube in the emergency MedBag, Spock.”

Spock tore back immediately, ignoring Jim’s pleading, “No, no, don’t go — fuck lube, stay.”

Bones’s arm circled Jim’s chest, keeping him there as Spock walked to the edge of the pool and jumped out. He kissed Jim’s cheek, then the corner of his lips, then his mouth. Jim opened up immediately, welcoming him in, an eye still on Spock, feeling irrationally cold at his front.

He was distracted by Bones’ other hand, which had sneakily travelled down, between Jim’s cheeks, and suddenly pressed behind Jim’s sack, right at his sweet spot, making him see stars. “If you want me inside, Jim, you’ll let Spock get the lubricant.”

“Water can be lubricant,” Jim panted, chasing his mouth. Bones tilted back, denying him, and looking at him with a confused frown.

“Water acts as the opposite of lubricant in penetration, Jim. You knew that, right?”

“No?”

“Do I need to give you sex education, Jim?”

“No, but I think I do want to know why there’s lube in an emergency MedBag.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want to talk about right now?” Bones asked, pressing up again with his fingers, making Jim gasp and jerk.

“No,” Jim panted, “I’m good, don’t stop, c’mere.” Bones kissed him deeply, drinking up Jim’s cries and moans, steadily pressing up and down, always in the right spot, always making him keen, gasp, and tremble.

Jim didn’t even notice when Spock came back, jumping in surprise when two scalding hands landed on his inner thighs, spreading his legs. He was barely aware of them passing something from hand to hand — lube, right — before Spock picked him up, hands beneath Jim’s bum to push Jim’s legs to circle his waist.

Jim met Spock’s mouth immediately, hands clutching his shoulders as Spock walked backwards, where the water was deeper and hotter, making them both shiver in delight. He stopped when it lapped at their ribs, biting Jim’s lips and making him shake, adjusting his arms so he could hold him up with one only, the other travelling between them and taking them both in his hand, tight and perfect.

Bones reached them immediately, just as Jim finished quaking at the sensation, closing in against Jim’s back, warm and solid.

“You okay with this, darling?”

“Very okay,” Jim managed to pant, right before Spock claimed his mouth again, demanding and deliciously rough.

Bones’ finger came almost out of nowhere, pressing insistently around his entrance, spreading thick, warm lubricant over it. “Try not to pass out, darling,” he whispered, right in Jim’s ear, then bit it sharply and pushed in.

Jim whited out, head flying back in bliss, landing on Bones’ shoulder as he panted. Spock started biting his neck, moving his hand up and down their shafts and somehow managing to go in perfect synch with Bones’ finger, pulling Jim in the middle of a dance that was making him dizzy with pleasure.

Spock’s hand was perfect, tight and slow; Bones’ fingers were even better, opening him up while pressing against all the right places and making Jim cry out, whine, and scream. Jim couldn’t even move, he was locked between them, held immobile and still under their ministrations, and the tightness was making his head spin in bliss.

It was perfect. Everything was perfect — their kisses, their bites, their arms and hands, the water lapping up in the small waves created by their movements, scalding hot against Jim’s air-chilled skin.

When Bones took his fingers out, Spock stilled, too, and Jim cried out in loss, clenching against nothing and hiding his face in Spock’s neck, shaking, knowing what was coming.

“Okay, Jim?” Bones asked, voice rough and deep, and Jim could do nothing but nod weakly.

“He is,” Spock confirmed, kissing Jim’s head softly.

Jim hadn’t had sex since their night together — even with the lube, with Bones’ careful prep, it burned when Bones pushed in. Jim shook all over, revelling in it, in the unfamiliar stretch that felt like coming home, biting Spock’s shoulder to keep himself from screaming.

Bones bottomed out slowly, hot breaths landing heavily against Jim’s back, and with gravity pulling him down, it was almost too much, too perfect, too intimate.

“He’s okay?” Bones asked Spock, who placed a hand on the side of Jim’s face softly.

Jim barely felt him check, but he must have, because he said exactly what Jim was thinking. “It burns, though he is relishing it.”

Bones kissed Jim’s neck softly, once, twice, then caressed down Jim’s sides until he took hold of his waist, squeezing gently. “Clench down when you’re ready, darling. Take your time.”

It took him a few seconds to clear his head, but Jim managed, feeling Spock’s hand fall away from his face and back to holding him up the moment he did. He looked up, using one hand to tilt Spock’s face towards him, starting their kiss again, then clenched on Bones as provocatively as he could.

Bones cursed, thrusting forward and grunting, and muttered his understanding before starting to pull out. After that, neither wasted time. Bones thrusted in and out steadily, hitting Jim’s prostate over and over again, making him squirm and cry in Spock’s mouth. Spock copied the rhythm around them and with his tongue, not letting up once, drinking everything Jim had to give and following Jim’s mouth when Bones hit him so right inside he screamed.

It was even more perfect than before. They were closer, hotter, more real, caressing and kissing and biting, making him shiver and quake, taking him apart thrust for thrust, kiss for kiss. Jim had believed he would have reached orgasm immediately, but he didn’t, he just felt good, and good, and better at every movement, every brush, even when he started seeing black at the edges and could barely keep up with Spock’s kiss.

They sped up as Jim started crying hot, overwhelmed tears - of relief and strain, and in the end, it was Bones biting the soft skin behind Jim’s ear that undid him, making him shake, clench, scream and come, whitening out.

He barely felt them accelerate with uncoordinated movements, barely felt them tense and groan out their own release, barely felt them caress him and shift him to sit more comfortably between them. Spock kissed him softly, once, and Jim was asleep.

⚭

Nyota was drinking tea.

Which, normally, would be a nice thing — she liked tea, she liked drinking it, and she liked gossiping over it. The thing was, Nyota was drinking tea while seated at a table made of vines and flowers, facing a species so cryptic that Sulu, Ryce and security — not that she’d had much hope for security — hadn’t even managed to understand what they called themselves.

They were tall, far taller than them, slim and elegant as they walked. Their skin was white, but it rippled green and blue in ways that Nyota could guess where meaningful, but still didn’t understand. Their faces were similar to Klingons’, but their eyes were almost like a humanoid's: white sclera, colourful iris, and vertical black pupil. They were gracious — they hadn’t touched them nor shackled them, but given them rooms filled with plants and flowers they’d never seen, and food that was edible.

It could have been worse, of course — Klingons might have eaten them instead of feeding them, for example — but still, she couldn’t help being weirded out by their casualness.

Also the tea sucked but Sulu had told her that they got offended if she didn’t drink it and he didn’t think it was poisonous. So. Tea. She hoped they couldn't read their expressions because Chris was the only one with a straight face, the others looked nauseous and ready to throw up.

“Let’s try again,” she told Ryce, re-running the algorithm. On the Enterprise, finding a crack in their language would have probably been easier — she’d have used the database and the computer to adjust each algorithm until one fit. From there, they couldn’t reach the Enterprise at all — they didn’t even know if the aliens had subspace comm — so Nyota had to work with what she and Ryce remembered. “Hi, I am Nyota Uhura, Acting Captain of the vessel USS Enterprise, we come in peace.”

The translator elaborated and replayed, sounding more similar to the sibyls and hisses of the language their hosts spoke, but still off. Unsurprisingly, the officer in front of her kept looking unimpressed.

“Maybe if we go back to the one before and add some vibrations?”

Even if they seemed not to understand even the most basic gesture from them, the aliens had been nice hosts to all of them, even to security and their undoubtedly drawn phasers from first contact. Sulu had briefed her quickly — they’d been beamed aboard shuttle and all just like them, then brought to their rooms and regularly visited to try and work out a form of communication. It was almost too weird, how accommodating they were.

“Might as well.”

They tried three times, but still nothing. The officer in front of them was bored — she thought she could see it when their skin rippled blue around their nose.

“Wait,” she said, “do we have a working colour screen?”

Sulu came forward, offering his PADD. “Battery’s at half, should work for ten hours.”

“Okay, Ryce, let’s try using the same vibrations patterns, but with blue and green ripples. I think they use them to communicate basic feelings.”

On try number three, as the translator emitted slightly off sibyls and screams and the PADD showed blue and green waves, the officer moved, looking at her and speaking.

“Argh, wait,” Nyota muttered, changing the tune of the translator and holding it out. The officer spoke again, slowly, showing no colours.

“ _My name is V’shees_ ,” it recited, slightly broken. “ _I am the Captain of this vessel_.”

Ryce whooped, but contained herself when Nyota sent her a warning look. “Do we need colour to communicate?”

More green this time, and other noises that she still couldn’t put in a pattern. The captain looked up again, waited for Nyota to offer the translator, then spoke. “ _Your species doesn’t communicate with colours?_ ”

“We don’t. Just sounds.” And gestures, expressions, body language and all, but just sounds would do.

The captain stood and exited the room quickly, emitting a swish that the translator interpreted as, “ _Wait_.”

When they came back, they were accompanied by two other aliens, each holding a small, blue sphere.

“ _I am Captain V’shees of the vessel Sss-th-sa_ ,” they said, voice coming out of the devices clear and mellifluous. “ _Can you understand us now?_ ”

“Yes,” Nyota said, relieved, “can you?”

“ _We can. Our apologies, we have not encountered a blind-speaking species for many decades and were unprepared. That is your translating device?_ ”

“Yes. If I can make it work with your language, I will tune it to our cochlear implants so we can speak freely, without devices.”

“ _Cochlear_?”

“Ear. Ear implants.”

“ _Good. My officers will do it — we understand that your technology still relays on radio and subspace?_ ”

“Yes, it does. Yours doesn’t?”

“ _No, Nyota Uhura. It is a secret that I can’t share — we don’t believe in altering evolution_.”

“Oh!” Nyota exclaimed, smiling, “We have the same rule, we call it Prime Directive. Here, this is the device.”

They were called Shsosh and the space area they’d been exploring had been their first border. Their planet of origin was so far away that it would have taken centuries to reach by warp. They were a scientific vessel too, orbiting the planet where Jim, Spock, and Leonard were, the one they called Thriving III, to protect it from raiders, because it was sacred to them.

They had fired at the Enterprise after releasing many more warnings than the one they had picked up, though they hadn’t been subspace nor radio.

“We preserve life, Nyota Uhura,” the Captain said, nodding to have his officers serve them more tea. “We apologise if we damaged you or your crew.”

“You didn’t,” Nyota said. There had been no casualties. “But my Captain and two other officers are down on Thriving III. We sent them down to explore and collect samples for research. We never exploit or change the habitats where we go, we just study them. They have been trapped there for a month — every time we came near with our ship, it was to retrieve them, not to provoke you. We apologise for the misunderstanding.”

“Your officers and Captain, are they alive?”

“We don’t know,” Nyota said, biting her lip until Chris squeezed her hand to warn her out of it. “Our communicators can't reach them that far away. Can we bring our ship close to retrieve them? We need the codes to their comm devices to find them and I don’t know them by heart.”

“Of course. We offer any help we can.”

“We’re fine, thank you, but you’re welcome to join us on the Enterprise. We can sign an agreement to respect each others’ borders and, if you wish, you can find out more about the United Federation of Planets.”

“We deem you trustworthy, Captain Uhura. We will come with you gladly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo.... was the angst worth it? 
> 
> I loved writing this chapter so so much -- I really hope you enjoyed reading it!


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, many thanks to the people who gave me feedback <33

So Jim loved them. He loved them, full and thorough, and they could have him — all of him, every day for the rest of their lives.

Also, when Jim was comfortable and too exhausted to sleepwalk away, he was the cuddliest person Leonard had ever met, and Leonard loved it. Waking up with him between their arms, willing, soft, and relaxed, made his heart accelerate to rhythms he only remembered from crushes during his teenage years, his first surgery, his marriage, the first time Spock had kissed him.

Jim was theirs and Jim wanted to have them back. He loved them, he loved being with them, he’d willingly given himself over, open and trusting, breathtakingly beautiful. He’d been so sweet, the night before, so sweet and unguarded, making the most delicious noises and breaking into the most intense shakes — sensitive, Leonard reminded himself. Jim was incredibly sensitive and he couldn’t wait until they could have him spread out on their bed to drive him mad with sensations until he begged. He’d fallen asleep right in their arms, completely loose, face relaxed and serene. He’d woken up — just barely — only when they’d put his clothes back on, to curl up farther into Spock’s arms.

When lunchtime came by he was still asleep, so they brought him outside with them — well, Spock did, Leonard could probably lift him but he’d murder his already strained back. Spock kept him between his legs, face resting on his thigh, and the way Jim hugged it to himself made the bond flare so bright it tingled. They ate the berries and the nuts. Leonard threw a little of both at the lemur, but it was clear that it only liked the firsts. He didn’t blame it, the nuts sucked.

Jim woke up when the light started to change, still bright but less biting, soft with the afternoon hours and the breeze.

“So why’s there lube in your emergency MedBag, Bones?” Was the first thing he asked, sitting up against Spock’s chest.

“The advanced medical grade silicone lube is like honey — I put it on open wounds to keep everything else away if I can’t close them immediately.”

“Oh. That’s less sexy than I thought.”

“It’s also the only one good for water sex. As we proved.”

“I’ll order everyone to bring it down. For medical reasons, Bones! Don’t glare at me! It’s for closing wounds!”

Spock shut him up by giving him the destroyed pieces of his comm to tinker with.

They spent the afternoon outside, enjoying the warmth and the air, occasionally throwing more berries at the bottomless pit that was Jim’s lemur. After every ten or so, it came close to Leonard to ask for chin rubs, which Leonard gave — who knew what the little devil would steal if it didn’t get its way. Jim’s eyes softened every time he did, so that was a perk too.

When Spock’s comm pinged, Leonard thought he’d imagined it. Spock had stopped counting roots, though, and Jim had stopped tinkering.

The comm pinged again, sharp and clear from inside the cave, and Spock barely made sure Jim could sit up on his own before running inside.

“Spock to Enterprise, do you copy?”

Static.

Maybe they’d all imagined it. He’d heard it could happen — and honestly half the shit in those roots could have easily-

“ _Enterprise to landing party. Ready to be beamed up, Sir?_ ” That was- that was Nyota. That was the Enterprise.

They were going home.

⚭

Thorough decon sucked. Once, at the start, people had used to just lie under sterilising rays, which was pretty relaxing — but that had quickly been proven inefficient. The current strategy was a mixture of a green, thick liquid that had to reach every inch of skin, a water shower under sterilising rays, then a ten minute sonic one.

Everybody hated decon.

Everybody but Jim — who thought the slimy green stuff was cool and spent the whole thirty minutes grinning like an idiot. Surprisingly, he still listened to most of what Leonard ordered him to do.

“Nice,” he said, hands on Spock’s shoulders as he let him help put scrub trousers on, “I’ll smell this stuff in my hair for weeks!”

“Gross, Jim.”

“Don’t hate — it’s in your hair, too! I’ll be even more attracted to you!”

“That’s not making it better.”

“Spock?”

“I find the smell deeply unpleasant, though I am glad you are enjoying yourself.”

“I am! I love decon!”

Jim loved the wheelchair Leonard had requested for him less, but didn’t protest it.

Walking the corridors of the Enterprise felt surreal.

They were home. They were really, really home — Leonard asked for Spock’s confirmation more than once, still half convinced that maybe he was just dreaming it. But no, he wasn’t. They were home, among friends, and everybody they crossed smiled, stepped aside, and saluted, exchanging brief, excited words with Jim and looking very relieved to see them.

Jim was pale from having had to stand up for half an hour, but somehow looked as commanding and perfect as ever. He was jovial and kind, smiling and nodding just right, diverting conversations when the crew-members got too excited and started stalling them. He recognised every face and remembered every name, taking care to add personal details as he talked to them, leaving everyone beaming after he was done.

MedBay, when they reached it, had only empty beds. In the centre of the room, organised in a perfectly straight line, all the alpha bridge crew stood to attention in various states of glee, relief, and tears — Scotty, as usual. Behind them, tall and snow white, stood five aliens Leonard was sure he’d never seen, not even in the most advanced xenophysiology textbook.

Nyota spoke before anyone else could, formally greeting them back to duty. Leonard itched to glare and point at Jim’s wheelchair and the week-long off duty time he’d drop on him the moment he could get a hand on his PADD, but he couldn’t, not with the guests.

“Lieutenant Commander,” Jim nodded, “thank you. Everyone, at ease. I see we have guests?”

“Yes, Captain. If you’ll let me scan your cochlear implants I’ll tune you in to the translation of their language.”

“Of course, go right on,” Jim said, smiling and tilting his head. Nyota was quick; she scanned them and sent the input to all of their devices in under thirty seconds, sending him an apologetic look. Well, at least he wasn’t the only one who could see Jim needed an IV and twenty days of sleep and nutrients.

“Spock, help me up please,” Jim asked softly. Spock did, passing a comforting hand on Leonard’s back first, careful to make sure Jim could stand before he stepped to the side. Jim’s legs were shaking slightly, but out of pure will, he stayed standing without help.

“Hello,” he said, “I am Captain James T. Kirk. I’m glad to see Lieutenant Commander Uhura welcomed you in. This is my First Officer, Commander Spock, and my CMO, Dr. Leonard McCoy. We’re happy to make your acquaintance.”

“Hello,” the alien at the centre spoke, blue and green waves rippling the white surface of his skin. “I am Captain V’shees of the vessel Sss-th-sa. I thank you for your welcome and extend my apologies — we have damaged your vessel and prevented your extraction for the past thirty-seven days.”

Oh, so those were the fuckers who had got them stranded. Just great. And they were on the Enterprise, unarmed, but important enough that nobody had managed to make them wait a single minute for the official greetings.

Jim looked at Nyota for half a second, surprised, then turned back to them, smiling jovially. “I’m sure there was a misunderstanding and no apologies are necessary. I am eager to talk more, but I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to give me and my officers a day to settle in and receive medical attention. I will come to you after my Acting Captain has briefed us.”

“Of course, Captain. We will wait for your call.”

“Hendorff,” Nyota said, “why don’t you accompany our guests to the mess hall and help them figure out if there’s anything to their taste?”

“Aye, Sir,” Hendorff immediately said, waiting for the aliens to walk out before coming close. He placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder, lightly, and nodded. “Good to have you back, Captain.”

“Good to be back, Cupcake. Treat yourself to some cherry pie for me while you’re there, huh?”

“Aye, Sir, for sure!”

The whole room stood still when the doors whooshed closed behind him. Leonard was ready to start barking orders when Jim fell back into the chair, sighing in relief and laughing slightly. “Was I looking in the right direction? I started seeing black halfway through and couldn’t tell. They’re so tall.”

“Jim,” Nyota whispered, running close and kneeling in front of his chair, taking his hands and looking him over with eyes overflowing with guilt. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Jim asked, eyes closed and cheeks white — Jesus, he really needed an IV fast. “The ship's not on fire, we’re fine, there are polite aliens on board; you did great!”

Nyota shook her head, smiling wetly, and opened her mouth to reply. Leonard cut in before a tragic scene started and Jim passed out. “Uhura, you two can talk after he’s stabilised. Chapel! Prep the OR and sedation, we need to place regen capsules in his bronchi. Alright, people — everybody who isn’t medical gets one shoulder pat and then skedaddle! You have thirty seconds and then I start hypoing! Spock, help me get him on a bed, then get on one yourself and wait for M’Benga.”

Nobody dared to tell him to get on a bed himself, which was wise of them, because he would have screamed. Chris eyed him for three seconds before realising she would have more luck bullying him into being treated after Jim and Spock were taken care of, so she let him move Jim to a bed, equipment already in her hands.

“What happened down there?” she asked, worriedly looking Jim up and down before prepping his arm for an IV.

“We had sex until I passed out,” Jim said, smirking.

“Oh?”

“He got pneumonia.”

“Oh. You’re going to feel a little pinch, Captain.”

Between Jim’s surgery, Spock’s check up, his own check up, and planning Jim’s long term therapy, five hours went by fast. The ship’s time was just a few hours off the planet’s, so dinner rolled around just as his stomach started grumbling.

Jim had started waking up a few minutes before, so Chapel pulled Spock’s bed close to his, bullied Leonard into jumping on it too, then got them all trays and threatened to suspend them if they didn’t shut up and eat.

Spock was fine — he was the best one off, actually. His body was the most resistant to malnutrition and the cold had left no serious damage behind. Chapel had still given him immunity boosters and an IV to stabilise his plasma, but had otherwise left him alone and given him his favourite plomeek soup for dinner, because she was a sweetheart and Leonard — the universe, really — was really lucky to have her. Spock said it was illogical to have a favourite meal _and thus he did not have one_ , of course, but the way his eyes rounded when he got the soup wasn’t missed by anyone.

Leonard himself was pretty fine, too. His shoulder had been healed quickly and the scar that remained was thin and small. Chris had given him heated pads for his back, but they both knew that the real solution for that one problem was gym time and cartilage regen — a bitch of a process, as he’d have to go under the units twice a week for at least one month. He was more malnourished, but his stomach wasn’t messed up enough to need a build-up diet, so he got chicken soup and bread together with a few IVs of fluids and electrolytes.

Jim was- Jim wouldn’t have lasted much longer down there. Leonard had seen his lungs during the repair surgery — he wouldn’t have survived even a simple cold. He was malnourished, his stomach atrophied, he’d lost twenty percent of his muscle mass and eighty percent of his brown adipose tissue, and his blood values were abysmal. He had two IV bags on and three IV machines constantly putting in enrichers and boosters, but it would take him weeks of physical therapy and weeks of hypos to get back to normal. He got a veggie broth with so little rice he managed to count the grains, but he seemed happy to say goodbye forever to his juice flask, so he didn’t complain too much.

After they finished and a few nurses came to collect their dishes, Chapel put one of her favourite romantic holos up for them, then took up the privacy partition, letting them be.

Jim had his own bed, but he’d wiggled close to the edge so he could lie under Leonard’s arm, head rested on his shoulder. His right arm had crossed over Leonard’s lap to take Spock’s, probably making a mess of all the IV lines they had going between them, but nothing was pulling, so he didn’t tell them to stop. Spock was reading the bridge logs from the past month out loud, using his thumb to caress the back of Jim’s hand, his shoulder pressed against Leonard, comforting and familiar.

Nyota had tried to come get them so many times, sometimes even too recklessly. She’d never given up, not for a minute, and Christine’s logs were filled with worried words and the worrying schedules Nyota had kept up.

“She’s almost worse than me,” Jim murmured. Leonard had to agree. Only Jim would have done something as stupid as going back in with another shuttle after believing the first one had been blown up. Spock would have probably neck-pinched him for that one and Leonard would have hypoed him before he could even think of reaching shuttle bay.

When Spock started reading the parts about how the new language algorithm worked, Jim started falling asleep.

“Bones,” he murmured, eyes closed and face slack. “No secrets anymore, right?”

“Of course, darling,” Leonard said, a little worried, caressing Jim’s hair away from his forehead. “Why, what’s up?”

“I touched the menacing plant you told me not to touch, that time.”

Leonard laughed so hard Spock stopped reading.

Chapel came back when Spock had started meditating, and Leonard himself was half asleep.

“Len,” she called, coming closer in the darkness, holding something in her arms. “This little thing came up with your backpacks. The Shsosh decontaminated her on their ship and said she shows pet behaviour? They assume it was towards you.”

“The hell?” Leonard asked, squinting in the dark. Chris came up to Jim’s bed and, slowly, placed Jim’s lemur on Jim’s legs. “Is this a joke?” The lemur, still unbothered, raised itself — herself? — on her hind-legs, put its paws under her chin, and chirped.

Jim mumbled something that sounded close to, “No berries.”

“How the hell did Scotty not realise he was beaming up an animal?!” Leonard hissed, rolling his eyes when the little deviant put her chin forward. “Fine, yes, I’ll pet you! But not on Jim’s legs, come on up here, you’ll wake him up with your shameless tapping. And since when do you let people pick you up, you imp?”

“So she is yours! Always knew you were the softie of the ship, Leo.”

“Isn’t there a law about not kidnapping wildlife?”

Chris shrugged. “They said it’s an honour to be chosen by them, they’re very picky, but they will bring her back down. They also said this species brings you stuff when they decide they want to be with you. Kinda like cats, you know? I had a cat when I was a kid, but it only brought me dead mice and birds.”

The lemurs brought gifts when they decided they wanted to stick around. He guessed he could count himself lucky that his gifts had been Jim’s comm and his MedBag, and not a bar of carbon polymer to the head. “So it’s a she?”

“They said it is. Did she bring you something while you were down?”

Leonard snorted, watching as the lemur finished tapping, then jumped down to Leonard’s feet and curled up, closing her eyes. “Yeah. She did.”

“Then she’s yours for the night, Leo.”

“Did you get what they call them?”

“I did, but it’s got so many ’s’s that I don’t think I can repeat it.”

“Jim called them lemurs.”

“Yeah, he would, wouldn’t he?” She adjusted the covers over Jim’s body, tucking him in further, then checked his lines. “Do you guys need anything else before I go to sleep?”

“No, dear, thank you. Have a good night and say hi to Nyota.”

“Leonard?” Chris called, one step from exiting the privacy field, head turned to take them all in. She had a hesitant smile on her face, happy and sincere. “You look incredibly good together. I’m glad you worked it out.”

Leonard smiled, looking between Jim and Spock and feeling his heart overflow. They were his, he was theirs, and they were all finally safe. Everything would be alright. “I’m glad too.”

⚭

Jim was the only one among them who was not cleared for light duty. Doctor M’Benga cleared Leonard first, then Spock, leaving them soon after to allow them to change into uniform.

He waited for Alpha Shift to start sitting close to Jim’s bed, watching Leonard chart and adjust medication, then left them with the promise to come back when Jim would be ready for briefing and, after that, for the meeting with the Shsosh officers.

Leonard had appeared less than enthused about the prospect of allowing Jim to work, though he needed not worry. Nyota had already prepared the agreements, they would only read them out loud and sign them. Spock had promised him he would ask for the meeting to be conducted in MedBay — that way Jim would be monitored, Leonard would be close, and protocol would be mostly respected.

Nyota opened her mouth to speak to him when he entered the bridge, though she closed it, saluted, and turned back to her station without engaging him. She would, he supposed, share anything she wished with him the moment they were alone and off-duty.

Two uneventful hours went by, mostly occupied by the return of the two Enterprise shuttles that the Shsosh had kept in their ship. One of their officers stayed on the bridge to oversee the procedures, though they left the moment they were not needed anymore.

It was a normal shift, similar to any other Spock had worked before being stranded. Still, even if his absence had only lasted a month, he felt disquieted at the change, at the absence of Jim and Leonard nearby. He was aware, of course, that Jim had been cured and he only required therapy to recuperate, not to heal, and that he was safe in Leonard’s care, the best of the ship — perhaps of the whole fleet. Still, his uneasiness could not be eradicated, nor the impulsive, illogical need to leave the bridge and return to MedBay immediately, to verify Leonard and Jim’s well-being on his own.

Leonard COMMed up after two hours, thirteen minutes and fifty-five seconds, informing him that Jim was awake and ready to receive him, Lieutenant Uhura, and Lieutenant Sulu.

The turbolift ride was done in silence, though Spock could feel tension radiating from both officers. Illogical, of course — he had read their logs, they had behaved admirably and followed protocol up until Nyota’s decision to leave with a shuttle herself. Still, even if it had broken regulation, her choice had brought a possible new alliance and the retrieval of the away team, therefore the chance of punishing consequences was slim.

Jim was awake, bright eyed, and seated against the headboard of his bed with the lemur curled on his thighs. Leonard was standing next to him, reading his vitals and rhythmically tapping against his PADD.

“Captain,” Spock greeted.

“Spock,” Jim greeted back, smiling, “everyone, please, take a seat. I don’t have permission to take notes-“

“‘Cause you’re like an infant with the IV lines, Jim!”

“-so I’ll have to ask one of you to do it for me, please.”

“I’ll write down everything you ask me, Captain,” Nyota said, sitting down rigidly on the chair farthest away from Jim’s person. Sulu took the one in the middle, so Spock took the one closest to Jim, thirty-seven point eight centimetres from his entwined hands.

“Thank you, Nyota. This is official business, but I’m off duty, so I think we can all lay off rank, guys.” He waited for them to nod before smiling wider and settling more comfortably against the headboard, poking his tongue out at Leonard’s “Watch it, Jim!” When one of the monitors blared its protests.

“Sulu and I agreed I would talk, Sir.”

“Jim.”

“Yes, Jim, sorry. Okay, so, we realised something was wrong when…“

Nyota retold the official logged story, adding her thought processes and her opinions. She asked for Sulu’s input twice, speaking mostly herself, and never raised her gaze above her PADD. Jim nodded, asked questions, followed up on Spock’s own questions when he needed clarification, and asked Nyota to make note of thirty-seven details in total.

They had, as Spock had already known, followed protocol. The whole mission and accident had happened upon unfortunate circumstances — the Admiralty had decided not to send any ship to their aid until fifty days had passed with no progress nor retrieval.

The Shsosh, as Nyota explained, were a peaceful, advanced species. Captain V’shees’ ship had been on border control — more specifically, they had been guarding the planet they called Thriving III, the one where they had spent the last thirty-eight days.

Thriving III was the third planet with the composition necessary to permit the development of the kind of jungle they had spent most of their stranded days in. It was, indeed, a single organism which consisted of multiple trees, offering life to a great range of fauna and flora, able to control its temperature, humidity, and light exposure through very specific radiation and chemical combinations. For its rich life, self-sustaining biosphere, and unique characteristics, its trees were a protected species, and one often subjected to theft by raiders. The seeds were sold in the black market as aphrodisiacs, the bark turned into a particular spice, the leaves used to fertilise desert habitats into flourishing ones.

The Shsosh placed the sacrality of life above all else, Nyota explained, and had sent three warnings before opening fire. They had not been aware of their presence on the planet and they had apologised for the trouble caused — at this, Leonard snorted, clearly interpreting their use of ‘trouble’ as far too simplistic. Spock would agree; had they stayed in the jungle, Jim might have perished.

The Shsosh had agreed to board the Enterprise, had offered help and given it freely, and had agreed to have an envoy travel with them back to Starfleet HQ to discuss their entrance as temporary observers into the United Federation of Planets.

Considering the circumstances, Spock was highly impressed with Nyota’s performance. She had not only managed to avoid casualties and any serious damage in numerous open fire conflicts, she had also succeeded in communicating their intentions to a far more technologically and philosophically advanced species and persuaded them to travel into Federation space to sign a diplomatic agreement.

Jim appeared just as impressed; he complimented her twenty-seven times. Still, Nyota did not raise her eyes, nor did she lose her hesitancy. She apologised numerous times and volunteered herself to go and find Captain V’shees and his diplomats to bring them there, as if eager to leave.

The Shsosh were just as polite as the day before. Nyota had completed all the due paperwork and diplomatic procedures perfectly; their official talk was brief. They signed the documents under Leonard’s scrutiny for each PADD and stylus that was handed to Jim, briefly going over each point to ensure both parties were completely satisfied.

The only procedures left, after that, were the naming of the planet, its diplomatic accessibility, and the bioethical protection of its unique species and its application in the Federation’s legal system. It would stay under Shsosh jurisdiction, of course, though they would allow supervised scientific visits by Federation vessels.

As for the name, it appeared that the term ‘thriving’ was not an accurate translation. The Shsosh term, they explained, had a strong infliction that indicated the richness of life and its vitality, and the term used by the translator did not satisfy them.

“ _Vitalis_ ,” Nyota said suddenly, speaking for the first time since she had entered with the Shsosh.

Jim looked at her with a kind smile, inviting her to further explain the term. It sounded like an ancient Terran language, Spock would guess; the translator had not rendered its meaning.

“It’s Latin,” Nyota said, “it means vital, life-giving, and thriving and alive, too. It’s a complex concept and one that might be the closest to what the Shsosh mean.”

“It’s lovely, Lieutenant,” Jim said. “Captain V’shees, do you agree?”

“Lieutenant Uhura has gained our trust, we have faith in her judgement.”

“Well, then,” Jim said, signing, “welcome to the Federation database, Vitalis III. Spock? Think you can handle the documents on the bioethics and protection?”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Great. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like a private moment with Lieutenant Uhura. Spock can lead you to a conference room where you can finish the contract; his signature has the same value as mine. Take the lemur too, please — we should point out the place where we met her so you can bring her home. Also, Sulu: the conn is yours until Nyota comes back up.”

The bioethics contract took longer to review. The Shsosh laws were more strict than the Federation’s and accounted for more progressive technology. It was a difficult line to navigate, though all parties were willing to work and reach an agreement, and thus it went fairly smoothly.

After signing, they conjured up a map of Vitalis III, where Spock indicated all the places where their equipment might be found, to be retrieved and destroyed. Despite the illogical nature of the feeling — he was aware that the elements that had stranded them had been pacified — he found himself unwilling to join the Shsosh landing party. His specifically requested presence, though, was completely logical — he would be required on the surface to accurately point out the places in the glade, the water pools, and the cave, where he believed the lemurs might have stashed their stolen equipment.

He could not offer a valid reason why he should not go. It was logical, he told himself. The Shsosh had far more advanced technology, the chances of remaining there, stranded, were very slim, and even if it were to happen, Spock was already aware of the best strategy to survive.

He COMMed Jim on an impulse, unsure about why he was doing so — Jim was not on duty, he need not ask for his permission; he himself was the highest ranking commanding officer.

“Spock to MedBay, Captain Kirk.”

“ _Go ahead, Spock._ ”

“I am joining the Shsosh landing party to point out-“

“ _Oh no._ ” Jim’s voice was suddenly sharp with the force of his command tone, the one he used on the bridge, against attackers and foes. “ _No way, that’s not happening. Can they hear me, Spock?_ ”

“They can.”

“ _Commander Spock will not be joining the landing party. He is my second in command, I need him here in case the admiralty calls from Strafleet HQ. He can’t go. He will point out everything on a map — Vulcans have an eidetic memory, it will be very accurate._ ”

Illogical and inaccurate — the admiralty would wish to talk to Jim, the Captain and highest ranking officer of the stranded away team. Spock did not voice the truth, though. He pointed out the places again, adding notes about the specific trees he recalled, then accompanied the team to the transporter and beamed them down personally.

He stood there, still at the console, finger hovering on the comm system access.

Jim had lied for him. Without seeing him or speaking to him directly, Jim had lied to keep him there. He had taken a command he should not hold and brandished it freely, for him. He had not hesitated, he had not inquired as to the importance of Spock’s presence there, he had not even listened to Spock’s explanation — he had simply acted.

Jim had broken the rules to protect him, like he had done many times before.

He pressed the button. “Spock to MedBay, Captain Kirk.”

“ _Kirk here, Spock_.”

“The landing party has been beamed down to retrieve our stolen equipment and repair any damages or pollution we might have accidentally caused. The lemur went with them, to be returned to her natural habitat.”

“ _You alone?_ ”

“Yes, Captain.”

“ _Okay, look_ — _I’m sorry I was so harsh, I just… the idea of you back down there, alone, just felt wrong and incredibly scary. I hope I didn’t put you in an awkward position; I just wanted to keep you safe._ ”

“I… did not wish to join the landing party. The prospect was—“ he paused, searching for the right word “—unpleasant.”

“ _Yeah, that’s one way to put it. Say, can you assign someone else to the transporter to beam them up?_ ”

“The away team will be beamed up by the V’shees together with our equipment, which they will destroy. They will not come back aboard until later tonight.”

“ _Okay, why don’t you come here, then? Alpha shift is over in less than an hour, you’re still on light duty, Sulu has the conn… nothing to worry about, right? I found a holo in the database that’s a documentary on the similarities between Terran and Vulcan tadpoles. It’s got three point seven stars, you can tear it down for me step by step._ ”

“That is… a pleasant prospect, Jim.”

“ _Well, hurry down then, come on! No rush if you can’t, of course — I am literally here all day, Bones threatened to hypo me if I move from the bed for something that’s not a bathroom break._ ”

When he reached MedBay again, Nyota and Jim were hugging each other tightly. “You did great, okay?” Jim was murmuring, “No worries. Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us for the holo?”

Nyota moved back, a trembling smile on her face, though one far more at ease than any expression Spock had seen from her since beam up. “No, Jim, thank you. I think I’ll finish Alpha and then go take a nap with Chris.”

“Good plan. Okay, then, off you go. You did great, really. I would have done exactly the same.”

Yes, Jim would have.

Nyota smiled her goodbyes to Jim, Leonard, and Spock himself, and disappeared behind the entrance doors with a new spring in her step.

“You’re a really great Captain, Jim,” Leonard said, walking closer to Jim’s bed and inserting a vial into one of his IV machines.

He truly was.

Jim just shrugged. “I did nothing, she just needed a confidence boost. Spock! Ready for the holo? I made you space on the bed.”

The documentary was surprisingly accurate and Spock had very little to correct. Less surprisingly, Jim fell asleep halfway through with his head resting against Spock’s thigh and his body curled up under the covers. Spock stayed, though he paused and annulled the holo, focusing instead on his PADD, reviewing the documents he had started drafting for the admiralty report.

Jim tried sitting up, still fully asleep, three times. Each time, Spock gently moved him back down and held him there until he was sure he would stay. It was still peculiar, seeing him move with such confidence while asleep, and seemed to make Leonard amused.

They woke him after two hours so they could all have lunch.

Spock’s consisted of a vegetable meal more hardy than the previous night’s soup, Leonard’s was similarly enriched, and Jim’s, to his consternation, consisted of more vegetable thin broth and few rice grains, accompanied by five very appreciated blueberries.

They ate slowly, talking of Nyota’s admirable performance, of the Shsosh, of the lemur — both Jim and Leonard seemed affected by her absence, though they were both relieved at the notion that she would be brought back to her home. Jim appeared far more energetic and healthy than the previous day and he proudly boasted that he had reached the bathroom on his own feet and with no help a few hours before.

Leonard appeared more relaxed, too, perhaps due to Jim’s improved condition.

They circled to Jim’s sleepwalking tendencies after Leonard had cleared their trays and had started charting Jim’s vitals through another algorithm.

“You attempted to sit up three times during your pre-lunch doze,” Spock informed them. “Though you did remain down when I moved you back to position.”

Without taking his eyes off the monitors, Leonard spoke halfheartedly, “What are we gonna do, Jim, tie you to the bed?”

Jim’s heart rate suddenly escalated, a series of high-pitched beeps that the monitor underlined in red. Spock’s eyes were pulled to Leonard’s as if jerked by the bond itself. They met in equal delighted surprise, then looked over at Jim simultaneously. He was looking down at his hands, cheeks as red as the monitors’ alarms, biting his lower lip.

“So,” Leonard said slowly, placing two fingers under Jim’s chin and pushing it up until Jim’s face was looking up at him, still blushed crimson. “Ropes or shackles?”

Jim released his lower lip, then licked it nervously, eyes flickering around until Leonard raised a brow and cleared his throat, immediately redirecting Jim’s attention to his eyes. “Ropes,” he murmured softly, “Gaila introduced me to them. I… like the burn.”

“Well, that’s a lovely little piece of information, darling.” Leonard bent down to peck Jim’s lips, then released his chin and turned back to the monitor with a satisfied grin.

Indeed it was.

Jim looked back at his hands, smiling to himself, then gazed up at Spock shyly. “Want to, uhm, finish the holo?”

“Will you stay awake?”

“Probably not. The narrator has that light, soothing voice that just makes me want to nap.”

“Are you perhaps in the mood for a game of chess?”

“Oh! Yes, let’s chess it out. We can, right, Bones?”

“If you can avoid pulling at the lines, you can.”

Jim won the first game. Spock had expected it; he had spent most of the game watching Jim’s wrists and imagining how rope marks would look like against them.

Judging by Leonard’s knowing smile, he had not been discreet.

Jim’s eyes started dropping halfway through the second match, just as Spock had finally exited Jim’s checkmate set up. He removed the board and stashed it back in Leonard’s office.

He had duties to attend to. He should speak with Nyota and Sulu about the return of the Shsosh landing party, go to his laboratory and discover what had happened in his absence, record a video message for his parents to inform them he had been retrieved.

Instead, Spock walked back to Jim’s bed and sat on the chair Leonard had left there, taking one of Jim’s hands in his.

“He sleeps a lot because of the enrichers,” Leonard said, speaking with a low voice. “They’re building up his brown fat and fixing up his blood cells, so they take a lot of energy away. It’s normal.”

“He will not remain compliant here long.” It was already unusual that Jim had not yet complained about his forced permanence in MedBay.

“I know. I think he needs two more nights, then we can lay off the IVs and he can start PT and move out of here.”

“Into our rooms.”

“God, I hope so. I don’t think I can sleep without him close, you know? Just like I can’t without you. Just the thought makes me nervous.”

Spock thought of that morning, of the two uneventful hours on the bridge and the irremovable feelings of loneliness and disquietude. “I find myself similarly unwilling to lose sight of him. I am aware it is illogical now that we are safe, yet the feeling remains. Furthermore, I feel both guilty and relieved about his obstinacy to retain command. I would not have found a way to exit the landing party without his input, though I am aware I should not have taxed him with the effort.”

“No, I get it. I want to wrap him in a blanket and hide him from the world, but at the same time a part of me is so freaking glad that he’s stubborn enough to stay in charge. When you COMMed about going down and he went off on you and the aliens about it? I didn’t even think of taking him off the comm, I was just so relieved he was there, ready to handle it. I could’ve done it myself, you know — medical reasons, whatever, easy enough. But I didn’t even consider it, because I knew Jim would have your back.”

Spock nodded, caressing Jim’s palm with his thumb. “I am the highest ranking officer on duty, I had no reason to COMM him. I could not think of an excuse to be spared the mission and my first thought went to him.”

Leonard nodded too, carefully bringing the covers higher over Jim’s chest. “He’s always helping someone. Even Nyota — he fixed her up in twenty minutes. She came in looking like she was walking to her execution and walked out smiling. He really is something, isn’t he?”

“Indeed he is.”

“He even made us befriend a sacred animal. Who manages that while stranded? How did you write it in the report?”

“I did not, I merely narrated the animal’s presence. Nonetheless, the Shsosh were thoroughly impressed and they might have written it into theirs.”

“Yeah, don’t wanna read that, they creep me out.”

“Leonard,” Spock chastised.

Leonard raised both his hands — the human gesture of surrender. “Can’t help it, they got us stranded, took Jim’s pet, and tried to send you down there again — saying they creep me out is the most polite I can be. Now, I’ll leave you to keep discreetly making out with our boyfriend and get back to work, but call if you need anything, alright, hon?”

“Of course.”

⚭

The only reason Jim didn’t complain about being stuck in MedBay was the fact that Bones, just before turning to his ‘mad and hypo-y’ self when Jim joked about running away from it, had a second of uncontrolled facial expressions where he actually looked terrified and worried sick.

So, he accepted his full three days of MedBay bedrest, didn’t complain about the hypos — well, not much, he complained the right amount — and didn’t sneak out when he thought nobody was watching.

Also, the fact that Spock and Bones made the effort to spend each night with him was nice. It couldn’t be comfortable, especially for Bones’ back, but they kept an empty bed beside Jim’s and used it to sleep, squeezed together. During the day, Chapel emptied a bunch of broken medical equipment on the bed so Jim could tinker with it while Bones was busy and couldn’t give him attention, which made everything a little more bearable too.

All in all, he mostly slept — Bones had warned him that the medicines he was getting would knock him out and, despite his best efforts, they always managed to keep him asleep for at least eighteen hours a day.

He used it as an excuse not to make the three very uncomfortable calls he should really make.

Pike had sent him seventeen messages — _seventeen_ — while Sam had sent five, and his mom had sent two — the equivalent of fifty, basically.

Jim’s excuse lasted until he got discharged on the morning of the third day.

Bones walked him to Spock’s rooms — _their_ rooms, they’d repeatedly told him over and over again, because he was always welcome and could move his stuff in whenever and other very sweet things. Jim half wanted to take the calls at the desk, mainly because the official settings would make him feel stronger while facing his mom, but his hair was a mess and he was wearing one of the shirts he’d stolen from Bones at the academy, so it wasn’t like he could look in any way presentable, not even on the bridge.

He took off his boots and trousers and sat with his legs under the covers while Bones went back and forth from the bedroom to Jim’s quarters to get him his PADDs and some clothes.

He left Jim with a kiss on the forehead and a slightly chastising threat — “They’ve waited long enough, Jim, come on!” — and left for MedBay.

The only reason he called his mom first was to get the worst out of the way. She stepped off her own bridge to go to her ready-room to take it, something she almost never did — he remembered more than one video call from his childhood when he’d been very eager to speak to her about something and Winona had told him she’d call back, and by the time she’d called back, Jim hadn’t really been eager to say anything at all.

“That’s not your room,” she said, surprised, then ruined it by adding, “or is it? I can’t remember.”

“It’s not.”

“Oh! I didn’t know you were with someone, James.”

“It’s a new thing,” Jim said, knowing that keeping himself vague but brief was the best way not to feel bad when she didn’t ask more.

He was surprised, then, when she asked him if he wanted to talk about it.

“Aren’t you busy?”

“I am, but I want to talk with you. Who is it? Is it your doctor friend? The Vulcan?”

“Yes. I mean, they’re separate people, and we’re together.”

“Oh! I didn’t know you were poly, James. I guess I don’t know much at all. Would you like to talk about them?”

They talked for twenty minutes, which was in all likelihood the longest call Jim had ever had with her. It was kind of nice, having her listening and asking questions, and he acted embarrassed when she asked for a picture of the three of them so she could keep it next to the one she had of Sam and Aurelan, but it felt good to have her ask. It felt good to send her a few too. They were almost all from official records, like the standard Captain-XO-third in command from their first five years mission and the one that the press had taken of them at a ceremony after Khan. He had one that Nyota had taken, though, with the three of them on a beach in San Francisco, just before leaving for their current voyage, and he sent that one, too.

The call with Sam was shorter, but still nice. Jim mainly asked him about Aurelan and the kids, letting the funny stories cheer him up, and downplaying everything Sam had read on the reports, telling him that the planet had been nice and they were all fine, he didn’t need to worry.

Calling Pike was known territory and probably the only conversation Jim had been looking forward to, so he allowed himself to slack off, leaning down on the pillows, and stopped pretending he wasn’t tired.

“That’s not your shirt,” Chris said immediately, eying him up and down. “Also, you look like shit, but better than the pictures from the report.”

“There are pictures of me in the report? Also, why can’t this be my shirt? You don’t know what shirts I have.”

“I don’t, but I do know you wouldn’t let a nurse take half a litre of your blood enough times to earn an ‘I donated blood’ T-shirt. McCoy’s?”

“Yep.”

“And that’s Spock’s room.”

“Yep.”

“Well, this is a conundrum. I wonder what happened.”

“Very funny.”

“Hey, I waited six years to tease you about them! It was high time you three figured it out.”

“Six years and that’s the best you come up with?”

“I’m old, son, I don’t joke like you youngsters. So, who made the first move? Can I give them both the stern dad talk?”

“No stern dad talk,” Jim laughed. “And, I guess all of us, in a weird way. Hey, did you know I sleepwalk?”

“Yes, once when I was babysitting you — I think you were seven — you almost gave me a heart attack. You walked out of your room and directly towards the staircase, I caught you one step away from falling down. I thought you’d grown out of it?”

“Apparently not.”

“So what, you sleepwalked into their bed?”

“More like the opposite, and then I almost stepped off a precipice. That made us figure it out.”

“Sounds like you, yeah. Nice story, a pity it’s not on the report.”

“Well, it did become unsuited for work very quickly after that.”

“Glad to have been spared then. But you, Jim? How are you?”

“I’m good. I’m great, actually. I’m… I’m really happy, Chris.”

“Well, I’m glad, kid — it was high time you found someone who deserved you. Come on, tell me more, I heard you befriended a sacred animal.”

They talked for two hours. When they closed the call, Jim was left with a weird happy feeling floating around his chest. He’d known he would have had Chris’ approval, of course. It was Chris — he’d been waiting for Jim to find someone for years — and he’d always liked both Spock and Bones.

Still, hearing him so glad and watching him be sincerely happy for him was… well, very nice.

He spent the rest of the morning reading in bed, cuddling farther and farther inside the covers until he was lying down and half asleep. Spock and Bones found him like that, curled up in their bed with his eyes closed and his PADD forgotten, and let him stay there while they changed and replicated lunch.

Jim’s meals had evolved to semi-solid foods, which meant that his broths had a decent amount of rice and the occasional meat, and he got fruit yogurts as dessert, the fancy ones with granola on the side.

They wouldn’t be required for duty until 1800, when half the Shsosh on board would rejoin their ship while three stayed back, and the Enterprise could start the voyage home.

They spent the afternoon lying in bed with an old holo movie Bones picked, commenting on details, actors, and historical inaccuracies, making out and cuddling.

“I sent pictures of us to my mom,” Jim said suddenly, drawing both pairs of eyes on him.

“Oh, Jim,” Bones said, surprised, smiling. “That’s great.”

“She asked for them,” Jim added, not even knowing why he was telling them.

“We’re glad your talk went well,” Bones said, making Jim realise that yes, it actually had gone well, perhaps for the first time ever, and maybe that was what Jim had been meaning to say all along. “Want to tell us about it?”

“Not much to say,” Jim said, “it was nice, though. I think she approves. She thought you two were the same person, but she seemed happy for us even after I told her you weren’t.”

When 1730 hit, Jim wore his uniform for the first time since the mission, feeling better than he had in weeks. He walked all the way to the bridge on his own, feeling mostly fine when he reached his chair, but sitting down gladly. Oh, he’d missed his chair. He’d missed everything about the Enterprise, really, but mostly his chair and the wonderful view of the bridge and the screen.

Spock sat at his station, but Bones stayed close to him, standing on his right with one hand on the backrest.

The beam out went smoothly. The Shsosh on board returned to their rooms soon after, despite Jim’s invitation to stay for the warp out — they probably thought the Enterprise was outdated and boring, which, _ouch_.

“Route to Terra inserted, Captain.”

“Ready for warp at your command.”

“Hit it, Sulu.”

The plan had been to beam out the guests, warp out, then go back to resting for the whole alpha crew, returning the bridge to the beta shift. Nobody seemed to want to move, though, least of all Jim. They hadn’t been together on the bridge for more than a month — _he_ hadn’t been on the bridge for more than a month — and the combination of the soft hum of the nacelles, the familiar noises of the bridge stations, and Chekov and Sulu’s steady chatter, drew him to stay.

Neither Bones nor Spock seemed to mind.

They all stayed until dinner time, mostly in comfortable silence, occasionally talking about ship and crew stuff — an engineering bet that was going on, Scotty’s new idea for the warp core, Sulu’s plants, Nyota’s music night.

They all had dinner at the mess hall, squeezed onto a single table, joking and teasing and laughing as they always had. Even Bones, who usually went through their common meals by grouching and brandishing forks threateningly, let out a smile or two. Nyota was smiling freely for the first time since they’d come back from Vitalis III, one of her hands tangled with Christine’s, teasing Scotty about his latest love conquest.

It felt so right, so achingly normal and familiar, being surrounded by loud words and funny jokes, sharing gossip and stories. It was almost as it had been before, except one thing.

Now, whenever Jim raised his eyes to look at Spock, Spock looked back, his eyes crinkled with comfort and happiness, with undisguised love, and Jim could smile back freely, extending a hand to rub their fingers together. Whenever he looked at Bones, Bones looked back with a wink and a smile, and Jim could laugh because he knew exactly what Bones was promising him, and he could bend sideways and peck his lips for a small kiss.

It was both everything and nothing like before. It was companionship, a bond, affection, trust. Jim had used to look at them and see nothing but them, nothing but what they would each become, the thousand ways in which he thought he’d be left behind.

Jim looked now and still saw them and nothing but them, but they were everything: his present, his future, the best part of himself. He felt safe. He felt, for the first time in his life, completely at home.

That night they made slow, sweet love under the covers, taking their time, exploring every centimetre of skin, pressing closer and closer, drinking every gasp, every moan.

Jim fell asleep between them, in their arms, lulled by the hum of his ship and the beats of their hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just tying some loose ends in this one -- and of course adding some fluff.
> 
> So how are these Original Alien Characters, hm?


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, huge thanks to the lovely people who gave feedback <3

“I’m starting therapy for my PTSD,” Bones said one evening, then proceeded to get completely black out drunk and passed out in the bathroom with his face inside the toilet. Spock was in a lab marathon, one of the “I require absolute concentration” ones, meaning he’d make any ensign dumb enough to interrupt him cry or quit, and steadily ignored them both unless one of them was dying or something equally barely worthy of his attention.

It was therefore up to Jim to wash Bones’ face of the vomit, throw his clothes down the chute, then bring him to bed — he slammed his head and limbs against walls and furniture so many times he lost count, but Bones was so gone he didn’t even notice. He put him to sleep naked, because they did sleep naked frequently since nobody really wanted to get dressed after sex and Spock’s quarters were really warm, but mainly because his arms and back were tired and he didn’t think he could clothe Bones without causing more accidental damage.

He was glad that Bones had finally decided to see someone. He still didn’t know how he’d managed to pass the trauma psych evals in the weeks after Khan — well, he did know, it wasn’t rocket science. Bones must know exactly what the evaluators wanted him to say, so it had probably been fairly easy for him to lie to get flying colours, but still. Jim had died. That shit left scars and the fact that everybody had just assumed he was okay was crazy.

So he was glad. He’d have rather had it without Bones being so terrified of the idea that he’d decided to kill his liver, but still. Progress. Small steps. He wasn’t the best example for making adult and responsible choices, anyway. He still reached for his phaser whenever he saw a shuttle on the other side of a wall window, still needed to see Pike’s recent messages to him to remind himself that he’d been injured, but he hadn’t died. Bones had saved him.

He wasn’t judging, he was just worried.

The morning after, Bones woke up cursing himself, alcohol, Scotty’s stash, and life in general. A few gods came up, too. Jim COMMed Chapel to tell her Bones was feeling bad and wouldn’t come to MedBay, then brought him coffee and told him to stay in bed. The fact that Bones didn’t even try to argue with him was a testament to how much he’d drunk the night before.

Spock appeared in the middle of alpha shift with the gleeful eyes of someone who had just destroyed a rival publication. He sat at the science station and didn’t even scold Chekov when he accidentally blasted music on the general comm instead of the announcement he had to make.

When they went to retrieve Bones for lunch, he was throwing up in the toilet again, but he did have enough presence of mind to tell them he’d rather eat his boot than go to the mess hall with his headache. They had lunch there with him and watched him eat one single piece of untoasted bread looking like it was personally offending him by existing.

All in all, not the worst possible day.

On the day of his first session, Bones was sober, but grumpy as if he were still hungover. He barked at half the people they crossed in the corridors, cursed at the replicator in the canteen, then got screamed at by Chapel for his abysmal bedside manners.

When Jim heard him enter their quarters after the session, he was ready to run to the liquor cabinet and lock it with his fingerprint.

Instead, Bones looked at him with a noncommittal expression and said, “She said it’s not the worst she’s seen and thinks we can start working on the symptoms in two months.”

Not the worst probably wasn’t the best compliment from a trauma therapist on the Starfleet ship with the highest count of freaky accidents, but still, they’d take it.

So Bones kept going to therapy — once a week to start, then once every two after three months had passed and the exercises the doctor had given him had started reducing his nightmares. He still needed to hold Jim in his arms when he got them, still needed Jim to talk to him quietly and continuously until his brain tuned back to reality enough to realise Jim was there, alive, he’d saved him, he could breathe.

Three months turned to seven. Bones came back from his appointment with a nervous frown and stayed silent all through dinner. He waited for them to clear the dishes and start a holo doc before blurting, “We started talking about telepathy-induced sleep,” to which Spock reacted by hugging the shit out of him until Bones stopped shaking.

Jim hadn’t been there for that — almost literally, he’d been medically dead — but they’d told him enough. Spock had told him, mainly, while Bones had silently stared into the void with a haunted expression on his face.

Jim knew, then, how big of a deal that was.

Bones didn’t get drunk that night, but he did ask them to move the alcohol away from their quarters. Jim brought it to Chekov, knowing that between him and the parties he and Scotty threw down in Engineering, it would disappear in less than a week.

The ‘telepathy-induced sleep’ talk lasted way longer than the ‘Jim died’ talk; it took them almost one more month to start exercises, and two more months before Bones said that both the therapist and he thought he was ready to try it again.

Spock seemed both eager and reluctant, and also pretty saddened by Bones’ hesitant expression when he told them, so Jim organised a week of leave on a planet whose name he didn’t even remember, but seemed to have nice vacation houses to rent.

They beamed down with few bags and fewer plans, found the house, got enough food to last them half the time, then spent the first day on the empty beach, enjoying the sun and the water.

Jim cooked dinner while Bones and Spock set the table and unpacked, vaguely listening to them talk about articles and research and anything that had nothing even remotely related to what they were about to do, and feeling the tension increase minute by minute. Which was a pity, because he’d managed to make the perfect lasagna and even nailed Spock’s veggie soup, and nobody would really enjoy the food. He should have gone with the frozen pizzas for the night.

Bones and Spock still complimented him, but most of the meal got frozen to be eaten over the next few days.

They’d purposefully left out alcohol from their shopping list but Jim almost wished they hadn’t. They could all go for a glass to settle their nerves, probably.

When they went to settle to sleep, the tensest one wasn’t even Bones — it was Spock.

“Are you two sure you don’t want to do this tomorrow?” Jim asked, because he’d thought that they’d want to try with something easy first — like a ten minute nap — and wasn’t really sure about starting that big, with a whole night, but he’d managed to keep his thoughts to himself while they’d still looked actually willing to do it, not wanting to spook them.

“Yes, let’s get this over with,” Bones said, lying on the bed and looking like he was waiting for his execution. Spock started leaning down on him with an ever grimmer expression on his face, pushing Jim to finally take charge and intervene.

“Okay, this absolutely won’t do. Bones, you look like we’re about to kill you; Spock, I haven’t seen you this tense since we got your dad onboard the Enterprise. Everybody get up, we’re going to make out on the beach until you two relax.”

“Don’t think I can relax, Jim.”

“Well, I can’t watch you do this with this attitude and I think your therapist would agree with me. Beach, sans clothes, making out — let’s go. You can look like you’re on a death sentence while you’re lying on white sand. If you two can’t relax, we’re starting tomorrow with a freaking nap. Get up, get undressed, let’s go!”

The beach was nice, but Jim suspected that the thing that settled their nerves enough to enjoy it was Jim’s idea of not trying if they stayed tense like that.

They settled on two towels, Bones in the middle, staring up at the stars.

Jim waited for Bones to get irritated enough to bark at him, “Well? Did you get us out here just to lie still, Jim?!” before he pulled his face down and kissed him.

Bones was still rigid, but Jim had been with them long enough to know more than a few dirty tricks to make him loosen up, so he pulled the best out of his arsenal. He got his first groan in under three minutes and the following roll of Bones’ whole body towards him, rocking into him.

“Spock?” Jim asked between kissing, nudging Bones’ chin up so he could kiss and bite his throat, “Wanna play?” Because that was what they always did when they were all together and not in the mood for sex yet; he was a little surprised Spock hadn’t already started trying to steal Bones’ attention from him.

Jim’s words were enough to make him start, though, and after one minute, Bones’ whole body jerked forward as he tore his mouth away from Jim to gasp, and Jim looked over to see Spock’s mouth biting the delicate skin behind Bones’ ear. Yep, that was a good distraction place.

Bones turned, moaning softly when he met Spock, and Jim let them kiss and rock for a minute or two before he slithered up to Bones’ back and set his mouth on the angle between his neck and shoulder, still bruised from where he’d bitten him two nights before.

He nipped and licked a few times, building up anticipation, then sharply bit down, making Bones flinch and shake, gasping away from Spock’s mouth. Bingo.

Bones turned, meeting him eagerly, pressing up warm and delicious against every centimetre of Jim’s body.

Bones was harder to distract than Spock — with Spock, anything that involved licking or biting his fingers or the areas of his psi points made him jolt and grunt out loud, sometimes even growl, which usually made Jim melt into an excited puddle. With Bones, it was harder, he made them both fight for it, which was a good challenge when it was Jim’s turn to distract, and an amazing kissing time when Jim won the round.

Spock managed to sneak him back by biting his earlobe while twisting a nipple, and Jim let them have at it for a few minutes, rethinking his strategy for the night. It was clear that both had relaxed enough, but mentioning the reason why they’d taken the break in the first place might tense them right up.

Sex was a possibility. In the afterglow, they might be unwound enough to try, but Jim was usually completely useless after they were done and he wouldn’t be able to help if they panicked.

He was still convinced that immediately going for the elephant in the room might not be the greatest idea. They could have sex, go to sleep, wake up the day after and take it easy. He opened his mouth to suggest it, but Bones interrupted by barking, “Jim, if you don’t join back in now, we’re having sex without you.”

So Jim shut up and joined in.

When he finally made Bones turn by softly blowing in his ear and pressing up against his prostate, Bones bit him then told them to move back to the bedroom, because the beach was romantic but sand and lube didn’t mix well.

Any hesitation in Bones’ body disappeared when Jim sprawled out on the bed, offering his wrists. He jumped him immediately, pressing them to the mattress above Jim’s head and kissing him, all aggression and weight. Jim was vaguely aware of Spock getting the cleaners ready before he inserted them, thoroughly distracted by Bones devouring his every noise and not letting up, following Jim’s mouth to the side when Jim tried to move to catch his breath, biting Jim’s lower lip in punishment when he jerked and pulled at his hold.

They had sex like that, with Spock on top, Bones in the middle, and Jim at the bottom, and it was harsh, intense, thunderous, and perfect, and Jim loved being in the middle but he also loved being held down by them both and being able to look at their faces, their eyes, as they crumbled apart.

Jim was half asleep when Spock collected his bearings enough to get a warm towel and wash them, but he didn’t miss Bones’ soft murmur saying that maybe Jim’s idea to take it slow wasn’t that bad.

They fell asleep with Bones half sprawled over Jim’s body, delightfully heavy, and Spock on Bones’ other side, his arm over them both.

When Jim woke up, he was alone in the bed, but he could hear the noise of breakfast being cooked and the smell of fresh coffee in the air, so he stretched, curled up, then stretched some more, grabbed a pair of shorts and one of Spock’s vests, and went to join Spock and Bones in the kitchen.

They were cooking together — from the look of it, it was those whole wheat flour, weird seed paste, no eggs and three banana pancakes that tasted nothing like pancakes, but were tolerable enough with the right amount of syrup and the right berries on top. They were talking softly, brushing against each other and rubbing fingers together, something they hadn’t done since the therapist’s suggestion that they try _the thing_ , so Jim leaned against the door rest, watching them, wishing he’d taken Nyota’s suggestion and had brought the PADD with the holo-camera.

Spock noticed him first, of course. “Jim,” he called, nodding at him to sit, “coffee or tea?”

“Coffee — thanks, love.”

He sat, responded to Bones’ peck on the forehead with a smile, and waited patiently for his saw-dust tasting food, eying the syrup bottle on the counter.

Breakfast was nice. Bones complained about Jim’s syrup and his three cups of coffee, but none of the tense air from the day before seemed to appear, so Jim considered it a win.

They spent the morning on the beach, swimming and sunbathing, then came back in for lunch, to heat up what had been left of the previous night's dinner. It was much more appreciated, which was nice, and all of them got second servings.

Bones brought up the nap thing while Jim and Spock were clearing dishes.

“You could send me down lightly,” he said, “and then you two wake me up in twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes seemed far less daunting than a whole night of waiting so they went with it almost frictionlessly. Bones lay on the bed, eyes closed, and Spock and Jim settled in on his sides, caressing his arms and legs until he relaxed. Spock brought his hand up to Bones’ face and, in a second, he was asleep.

They waited it out right there on the bed, Jim lying down with his eyes closed, Spock meditating.

When it was time to wake him, Spock made Jim go ahead so he’d be the first thing Bones would hear and see.

Jim shook him slightly, calling his name, and waited until Bones jumped up, breathing rapidly, his eyes wild as he took in the room. When he settled on Jim, he doubled over, reaching out then stopping himself, looking at him as if he was seeing a ghost.

“I’m okay,” Jim said, “I’m alive. You saved me. It’s 2262.3, we’re on leave, you just woke up from a nap.”

“You’re alive,” Bones repeated, hand moving up and cupping Jim’s face. Jim smiled encouragingly. “You’re alive, okay. Okay. I’m back.”

With attempt number one being successful, any tension disappeared.

Bones asked to try again two hours later, laying on the bed with a soft smile, and Spock put him to sleep without hesitation.

That time, Jim woke him up with a kiss, which drastically reduced the crazy panic time, and also led to a fantastic make out session.

When dinner came around, Bones was probably ready to ask to try for the whole night, but both Jim and Spock called a break. Jim made dinner again, wrapping up some salads and being careful to include each one’s favourite ingredients, and they ate it with wine and sparkly water, talking about the newest rumours about a peace summit where the Klingons would attend.

They made love again that night, slowly, more thoroughly, enjoying the new relaxed pace of their vacation.

The morning after, they tried for one more nap before having the night discussion.

“It is clear that direct stimulation from Jim himself appears to be the most successful method to draw you out of the panic.”

“So basically I’m a fairytale royal giving the magical kiss?”

“A most curious description.”

The first attempt at a full night try was rougher than Jim had expected, but it mostly went well. Bones woke up panicking but Jim kissed him every time he opened his mouth to speak, repeating that he was there, he was alive, two years had passed, Bones had saved him.

By the time their leave ended and they had to get ready to beam up, Bones could wake up from telepathy-induced sleep with Jim sitting on the other side of the room, without panicking, and without immediately needing to run over and check him.

When he went to meet with his therapist four days later, he whistled all the way there.

With that issue overcome, the relationship between them deepened quickly. Bones and Spock met Jim’s mom during a crossing of ships for a cargo exchange. Winona invited them all over for tea, which was luckily replicated and not of her own doing, and spent a perfectly polite half an hour looking like she was genuinely interested in their relationship.

When they left, she sent Jim a thumbs up image in their comm chat.

Somehow, that thumbs up made everything suddenly more real.

He didn’t start panicking until Spock’s parents somehow got on the Enterprise — they needed to accompany them somewhere and then bring them back with a delegation they’d been sent to pick up. Amanda insisted on meeting him alone, and spent two hours asking him such genuine, nice questions and telling him tons of stories from Spock’s childhood.

When Bones asked him if he wanted to join a video call with his own mom, Jim was feeling scared enough to bolt and spent the next few nights in his old rooms, avoiding calls, staring at the thumbs up image his mother had sent him and not sleeping.

It was real. It had been real before that, of course, but it was suddenly really real — everybody in Jim’s life knew, everybody approved, everybody had given their blessings. Jim had a nice thing, everybody knew he had a nice thing, the universe knew he had a nice thing. Jim was… happy.

He didn’t even know why he was freaking out until Bones cornered him into his ready-room, looking at him with a knowing, patient gaze and saying, “We’re not going anywhere, you know that, right?”

It clicked so suddenly that Jim had to sit down, staring at his hands and watching them shake, counting his breaths until he finally managed to whisper, “I know.”

“Do you, Jim? Because we aren’t. This is endgame. We don’t say it out loud because we figured you knew already.”

“I did know already.”

“Then what’s wrong? Talk to me, come on. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

“I just… I’ve never had something nice and reliable that was endgame, Bones.”

“So it’s a good freakout?”

“It’s a freakout, I don’t know if it’s good.”

“It’s a good freakout, Jim. You think I didn’t panic before my marriage?”

“You and Jocelyn got divorced.”

“We did, but I still loved her on my wedding day, Jim. I was convinced she was the one and I was nervous anyway. I was nervous when I went to Vulcan to bond with Spock, too, you remember that. Wait- did Spock tell you anything?”

“No?”

“Oh, good. I thought he’d- never mind. But yeah, Jim, getting serious with people is scary because the more you love them, the more it could hurt if they were taken from you.”

“I just… my mom approves, which makes this much more real because… because I care about you more than I care for anyone else, Bones. She sent me this ridiculous thumbs up and I just kept thinking, what would she send me if I lost you?”

“A thumbs down — don’t punch me, I’m kidding, sorry. Bad pun.”

“It’s just… I was preparing myself to live without you, before Vitalis III. And then we got together, and you two told me you loved me, and I told you I loved you, and now I suddenly don’t know where I start and when you finish. I don’t know who I am without you, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. I’ve never had a nice thing I couldn’t live without because I’ve always known that everything has a time limit. And I can’t handle a time limit with us, Bones.”

“Then don’t put one, Jim. We’re young, we’re together, we’re happy. You don’t think we have the same exact fear? Everybody does. Look at Nyota and Chris, think of the shuttle they took to come save us. Shit happens, we can’t stop it — what we can do is face it together. Are you going to let fear dictate our relationship?”

“No?”

“Okay, then come back to sleeping with us, in your real quarters, Jim. Spock is freaking out and I’m shit at chess, I can’t distract him as well as you do. Also, we haven’t had sex in five days and I find it very unfair.” He walked closer, nudged Jim’s knees open and slid between them, hugging Jim to his stomach and scratching at the short hair on his nape, making Jim shiver and close his eyes, leaning in. “Come on, darling. Come home.”

That night Spock and Bones tied him to the bed and took turns until he was too hoarse to scream, and if anyone noticed how Jim kept pressing on his bruised wrists the week after, nobody spoke. Bones kept winking every time he caught him, but Jim liked that, so it was fine.

When they started fading, he spent five hours pounding a bag in the gym, then ran to his quarters, put in the order to have them dismantled and fused with Spock’s, sent Spock and Bones the confirmation form and then enjoyed the enthusiastic sex that came as celebration and thanks for finally getting his shit together.

The renovations lasted five days — Jim wasn’t around much because Scotty took the engine stop as an opportunity to change something about the anti-matter relay and Jim trusted him with his life and his ship, but also firmly believed that supervision wouldn’t hurt. Still, he came back to Leonard’s old quarters every night to sleep with them because he’d gotten over his freakout and the prize seemed to be mind blowing sex and increasingly intricate rope work.

They weren’t the only ones tying up the knot — Jim signed fifteen requests for new joint quarters, remodelling, and merging. All in all, even if internal reparations or alterations were generally hated by the whole crew, love appeared to be in the air, so few complaints reached Spock’s PADD and even fewer reached Jim’s — mainly Scotty’s, who kept getting his orders for equipment denied by Starfleet for ‘nuclear hazard’ reasons, and maybe Jim should look into his plans a little more.

When the building crew finished and their ship warped away, Jim was elbows deep inside the cooler tubes, trying to get Scotty out from where he’d gotten stuck and talking Chekov out of his panic attack because apparently those things flushed and the manual override was stuck.

In the end nobody died or got maimed, Scotty finished his repairs, and Chekov made them both swear to never, ever, ever, ever, _ever_ make him participate in their _crazy crazy_ ideas ever again. Which, fair.

When Jim got back to the new quarters — after having showered and listened to Chapel’s thirty minute rant about responsibility, adult behaviour, and enabling — he only had a slightly bruised ankle, which he definitely counted as a win.

He didn’t really know what to expect. Spock’s rooms’ entrance and his own door faced each other, but they were the last quarters of a closed corridor, and Spock’s bedroom and Jim’s old kitchen had shared a wall. Spock and Bones had built up their quarters to their taste and Jim didn’t mind them at all, nor had he wanted them to change anything, so what he really expected had been no change except a new door in the bedroom, leading to empty rooms where they could build up a study, a bigger kitchen, a meditation room, or whatever.

Instead, he got past Spock’s door to find that all the walls had been torn down and there was no bed where the bedroom had used to be. Instead, the table near the replicator and kitchenette on the far right was now an island with stools; the sofa placed at the centre of the far wall was longer, plusher, white, and U shaped. The bedroom itself had walls made of shelves, filled with Jim’s paper books and Spock’s parchment manuscripts, candles, incense, and vases, and held a round desk with three computer terminals, three chairs, and a ton of PADDs.

Spock and Bones were sitting on the sofa, legs on the coffee table in front of them, relaxed and beautiful and looking almost exactly like they’d looked one year before, on that first night, when Jim had won at chess to try and get away and then the whole night had blown up in his face.

“Hi,” Bones said, “you like it? We made some changes.”

“I… see that.”

Above their heads, standing on the windowsill and painted with the soft light of the stars, Jim’s Starfleet awards lay lined together with Spock and Bones’.

“Want a tour? Spock planned it all, he’s really proud of how it turned out.”

“You changed everything,” Jim whispered, still taking everything in.

“You do not like it?”

“I like it,” Jim said immediately, “I liked it before, too; there was no need for you guys to change everything for me.”

“It was nice before, yes — but you know what’s even nicer? Having something that’s _ours._ ”

“Do you wish to see the rest?”

Spock had kept the two bathrooms, but the rest was completely different. Jim’s old kitchen and living room now had walls, creating a meditation room and a study, each with their own viewing window.

“For private calls,” Spock said, nodding to the study, “or in case the admiralty wishes to see one of us only.”

Jim nodded, but his attention was elsewhere. He’d loved his old bedroom because he’d had a window directly above the headboard, he’d spent every night alone looking up at the stars and letting them lull him to sleep. The window was still there, but the bed under it was huge, and there were three pillows and three pyjamas, Jim’s blanket, the hand-woven quilt Spock’s mother had sent him, and Bones’ favourite nap duvet.

Jim walked forward, brushing the blue comforter with his hand, looking around and not finding the words. Endgame, Bones had said. Come home.

“Is it to your liking, Jim?”

Having something that’s ours.

“Yes,” Jim said, turning around and kissing him. “I love this. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Christening-the-bed sex was almost better than defusing-the-freakout sex. Oh, and Spock had gotten new ropes.

They’d already been living together, of course, but the joint quarters made it official and the first few weeks were filled with weird housewarming presents from everyone who had somehow found out about it.

Pike called him, congratulated him, and then stayed three hours on the call with Spock and Bones, alone, and if Jim hadn’t been so wonderfully happy and distracted maybe he would have put all the clues together and figured out what was happening, but he didn’t.

That was why Jim spit out his morning coffee when, two days later, Spock told him, offering him his pancakes, that they wanted to bond with him and what time would be most convenient for him to take leave on Vulcan so they could perform the ceremony. Bones didn’t even pat Jim’s back as he coughed his lungs out, looking thoroughly smug and self-accomplished.

“Told you he had no idea,” he told Spock, then winked and told them he’d be in the shower.

The shower quickie made them all thirty minutes late to alpha shift, but was definitely worth it.

So that was how Jim found himself on Vulcan, being led to his assigned bedroom in Spock’s home — which was basically five times Jim’s childhood house and somehow more intimidating than Spock’s dad — because a healer would spend the night preparing Spock and Bones for the ritual, meditating with them, and Jim would be a distraction. It sucked because Jim hadn’t slept alone in way too long, the room was empty, and the bed was way too huge, but then Chris knocked on his door, beers in hand, so they spent the evening on the terrace, enjoying the air and the stars, talking of the Enterprise, the missions, the crew.

Jim felt a little like the kid who’d used to wait all year for the summer weeks when Captain Pike would come babysit him, who had sat with him and his famous iced tea on the porch, asking him a thousand questions about Starfleet, space, Klingons, and his dad. The parallels were endless, really, especially when Chris told him that Winona wouldn’t make it in time.

It was fine, though. It was alright. Jim wasn’t a kid anymore, he had a nice thing that was endgame, one he could count on, and he’d be marrying it in the morning. He’d learnt long before that Winona’s love didn’t imply her presence, that she had much to make up for and it was keeping her away. That the problem wasn’t him. That Chris might not be his dad in name, but he was in everything else. That there wasn’t really anyone else Jim would have wanted by his side that night, drinking cold beer and talking about the stars.

“He’d be so proud of you, Jim. I know you don’t like hearing it, but he would.”

“No,” Jim said, smiling slightly. “It’s fine. I know what you mean.”

Jim let Chris crash on the bed both because he was old — he got a punch in the shoulder for that one — and because he didn’t think he could sleep in that monstrosity alone, and took the couch.

The morning of his wedding, Jim wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t afraid. He was just happy, and he couldn’t wait for the ceremony to start, to see Spock and Bones again, to start spending the rest of their lives together.

The ceremony was outside, in the middle of the desert, with the sun high up in a cloudless sky. If Jim closed his eyes, he was almost back in Iowa, between the fields, running around until his lungs burned and sweat plastered his shirt to his back.

But he wasn’t. He was on Vulcan, dressed in white, with Spock and Bones at his sides, smiling. He was kneeling on the sand, the hands of a healer on his face, murmuring words of initiation.

Then, he was standing up, taking Spock’s hand with his right, Bones’ hand with his left, and watching their hands close the circle, holding each other. He was closing his eyes as a healer placed her fingers on Spock’s face and pressed, and suddenly Jim wasn’t himself, he wasn’t alone, he was everything and he was nothing, he was part of them and they were part of him, he was a fraction and a whole, intertwined with them from the surface to the deepest parts of himself.

He was ten and running in the cornfields to hide from Frank, he was seven and he was running away from home and into the desert, he was eight and his ma’ had made peach cobbler because he’d hurt his knee while chasing a cat.

He was twenty-one and Pike had found him beaten up in a bar, he was twenty-seven and he was boarding a shuttle filled with red-clothed idiots that looked ready to explode, he was twenty-nine and a cadet had just beaten his best test.

He was running inside the Enterprise’s reactor core, he was fighting on the top of a moving shuttle to earn the blood that would give them a chance, he was looking down at himself and counting the heartbeats and the brainwaves and screaming that he couldn’t give up.

He was himself and he was Bones and he was Spock and all of them, and they were together, parted from him and never parted, never and always touching and touched.

Bones had told him it felt like a line, the bond between him and Spock, and Jim had imagined that was what they would have been together, lines, back and forth, holding them close. But it wasn’t. It was a circle, a sphere, and even with his eyes open and taking in the smiling people, the sun, the sand, Jim could still see it, linking them, passing feelings and sensations and love and strength, uniting them forever, stretching with their distance and never fading, keeping them close.

They spent the afternoon celebrating with the guests, but moved out to a house on the sea in the evening. They spread a towel on the sand and Spock and Bones indulged him as he walked farther and farther away, laughing and smiling, delighting himself in the way the circle never wavered, never paled, burning bright and warm with their love.

They needed to keep touching, the healer had said, they’d feel the need until the bond settled.

The itch was present but not too strong. He felt slightly uncomfortable when they weren’t in his reach, but not enough to stop him from exploring. Still, he stopped after twenty minutes, because Spock’s hands clenched whenever he got more than ten metres away, and the bond pulled. He felt it far more than he or Bones could, Jim knew, so he didn’t overdo it.

They seemed adamant to keep him between them. Their touch on his skin felt like sparks, tasted like emotions and sensations, and when they kissed and pressed together tightly, Jim could almost feel snippets of their thoughts, their impression, feel his own warmth through their skin.

They made love in the water, starting just like in the cave, with Jim holding desperately onto Spock with Bones taking him from behind, overwhelmed by the onslaught of feelings that the bond transmitted, by the layers and layers of pleasure that intermixed with his. Then, they both entered him, slowly and carefully, and Jim would have expected it to hurt, but it didn’t, he just wanted them deeper, tighter, closer, and when they finished the bond pulled them together, and he couldn’t tell where he started and they ended, he couldn’t tell his pleasure from theirs, his love from their projections.

They showered the salt water off their bodies slowly, all rush extinguished, shivering and kissing, trembling and pulling. They fell asleep in the bed, tangled and close, with Jim between them, in their arms, warm and safe.

He dreamed of them, maybe with them, all night. He dreamed of a house on a planet full of life, with kids running out of the door, chasing fireflies and squirrels, crowding Spock’s sides as he explained to them the nature of a flower, crying into Bones’ arms as he fixed a scraped knee. He dreamed of them, growing old together, of the stars and of their eyes, of the light that he could see in them, and would see every day for the rest of his life.

The end

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are at the end. 
> 
> This fic is the longest fic I've ever written, the first one with explicit smut, the first McSpirk one of (I hope) many others. 
> 
> I had a lot of fun, both because I got two wonderful people working with me on my idea (which was delightfully amazing) and because I got to do this with all the other incredible authors who participated alongside me. Sprinting together was the highlight of my night!
> 
> I poured a lot of myself into this fic. I hope it gave you half as many emotions as it gave me -- maybe even a smile :)


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